


radioactive

by bowlingfornerds



Series: tumblr prompts [38]
Category: The 100
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, F/M, Superpowers, and this fic sure doesnt, but what really is canon? because i really dont know, never to be seen again, the canon is long off in the distance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They came from space. There was an empty vastness that surrounded them their entire lives; glistening stars and a sun that they had to shield their eyes from. They were delinquents, holed up in a Sky Box prison, sitting side by side and waiting for their retrial – waiting to find out if they would die or be left to join the stars, out in the distance. </p><p>It was their unique combination of solar radiation in space, and the nuclear radiation still swarming around Earth after the war, ninety-seven years beforehand, that would change them.</p><p>But they didn’t know that yet.</p><p>-</p><p>Inspired by a post on tumblr: "AU: When the 100 land on the surface, the radiation has an unpredicted side effect on some of the group…superpowers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. JASPER JORDAN

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, first off: there are gonna be a bunch of chapters. I think there's 15 in total but I can't remember right now. They all vary in length. This first one is 2k but I've also written 5k ones, so we'll see how that goes.
> 
> Second, [THIS](http://sherlockvowsontheriverstyx.tumblr.com/post/145421110872/glowingbellarke-rashaka-terapsina) is the post that gave me this idea, and I believe [Tate](http://sherlockvowsontheriverstyx.tumblr.com/) is going to be creating a fic using the same prompt, so idk look out for that?
> 
> Basically, this is gonna be my masterpiece. (Not my masterpiece of masterpieces, as that's reserved for [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6314662/chapters/14467030), but a masterpiece all the same.) It's gonna be at least 30k (because that's how much I've written so far and I have at least 4 chapters left to finish), and it's multi-POV, so all of the characters listed above get their own chapter. I THINK it's going to have endgame Bellarke, but idk I can't trust me, I'm aiming to write it in so we'll see probably. The other pairings listed (or listed in the future) are also main pairings as they're focused on properly in various chapters.
> 
> We'll see, let's have fun with this.

_They came from space. There was an empty vastness that surrounded them their entire lives; glistening stars and a sun that they had to shield their eyes from. They were delinquents, holed up in a Sky Box prison, sitting side by side and waiting for their retrial – waiting to find out if they would die or be left to join the stars, out in the distance._

_Below them, Earth was untouchable. It was out of their reach – the planet which their ancestors used to own. A boy with a hard glare and death surrounding his mind would look out of his cell window – a pot-head in the bed next to his – and stare at the world he would never see for himself. A girl, with hair bright as the sun, in a windowless room, isolated and cold, couldn’t remember the colours of the open ocean that she used to gaze at longingly._

_A man eyed another warily – a gun held out in front of him. The guard uniform that he use to wear so proudly stared back at his janitors clothes. He reached out and took the gun, as a girl with his likeness curled into her sheets. She’d never had a bed before, and her cell mate loved to talk, so she would try to feel as if she hadn’t lived her life under the floorboards._

_It was their unique combination of solar radiation in space, and the nuclear radiation still swarming around Earth after the war, ninety-seven years beforehand, that would change them._

_But they didn’t know that yet._

 

**JASPER JORDAN**

 

To be fair, the Dropship _did_ have this old, antique vibe going for it – all dusty walls and seats that reminded him of images of rollercoasters from pre-bomb Earth. But that wasn’t what you wanted in a rocket ship that was supposed to safely deliver you to Earth. For this, you wanted something new; definitely going to work, and _not_ a death trap.

“Unless that’s what they were going for,” Monty, Jasper’s best friend, mused beside him. They were on the lowest level of the Dropship, the door at the other end of the room, and delinquents he’d been sharing his life with for six months surrounding him on all sides. “To kill us.”

“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Jasper asked slowly, wincing. Monty shrugged as best he could in his seat up against the wall.

“We don’t know what they would do,” he replied. That much was true. The Ark Council was unpredictable – hell, the Chancellor’s _son_ was among them, Jasper had heard, and why would Jaha send his own kid down to die? Then again, why were any of them being sent? Wasn’t Earth supposed to be barren and dangerous for another hundred years? Wasn’t that the point of being up in space?

On various monitors, Chancellor Jaha’s face and voice flickered, the soundtrack to their death. He was talking about Mount Weather, about survival, about finding the rations that had been sent down with them. Jasper was watching a boy – probably a year older than him – float about the ship as people laughed.

“Sit down!” a female voice was calling, but the guy kept going. This time he did a flip. Jasper recognised him vaguely – he wasn’t very close with a lot of people in the Sky Box. There was his cell mate, John Murphy, who hated Jasper with a fiery passion, it seemed. But he wasn’t a friend – Jasper tended to hang around Monty, Harper, Monroe and Miller. They were his type of people – all getting done for petty crimes that wouldn’t really _hurt_ anyone, unless you thought about it too hard.

Murphy, on the other hand, _burned down_ the guard’s station, which-

Apparently a whole month of oxygen was lost in that endeavour. Jasper was pretty sure Murphy was going to get floated when he turned eighteen, so maybe the slim chance that the Dropship wouldn’t kill them all on the way to Earth was better for the guy. Not that Jasper cared in the slightest.

There was turbulence, as the second kid climbed out of his chair, following the first. The first, it seemed, was Spacewalker – or Finn Collins, as he was actually named. He wasted oxygen, too, on an illegal spacewalk outside of the Ark. From what Jasper heard, Finn was about three months from turning eighteen – from getting floated without a doubt.

The Dropship started to shake, bringing Jasper back to reality as he gripped at the seat belts that crossed over his chest. He slammed his eyes shut, Jaha’s voice cutting out and letting them die with the screams surrounding them. The black was more comforting than knowing what was going on around him – he didn’t see the second boy’s body crumple at a particularly big jolt, nor did he see the sheer terror on his best friend’s face.

The ride didn’t even out, but it eventually stopped.

There was a crash, and then silence. His skin felt like it was on fire as Jasper opened his eyes, little by little. Everything about him was hot, but he pushed the thought aside, looking over to Monty.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Monty nodded groggily, slowly unclipping his seatbelt. Jasper was there in a second, letting Monty lean on him as the delinquents began to reach for the door.

There was a man at the front of them in a guard’s uniform, and Jasper frowned. Did the Ark send a _chaperone?_ Really? He was reaching for the lever that opened the door when a blonde girl called for him to stop.

“What if the oxygen is toxic?” she asked, a frown across her features. Monty was leaning heavily on his side, skin cold to the touch.

“Then we’re dead anyway,” the guard replied. “Might as well get it over with, right?” He turned back to the lever once more, but there was another voice.

“Bell?” It was a girl, and Jasper watched her push through the crowd. She looked vaguely familiar; like someone he’d seen around the Sky Box, but never bothered to talk to. She was cute, though; attractive in a blatantly obvious way that matched that of the guard.

“O?” Bell questioned in response. It became clear to _someone_ after that, because the whispers started to surface, that the girl was Octavia Blake – the one they found under the floorboards. The two embraced in a hug, before the lever was pulled and the door lowered, air releasing from the ship.

For a moment, they stared at the trees; everything so vibrant and bright, contrasting everything they’d known back on the Ark of muted greys. The world was _green_ and it was beautiful.

Then the air hit them and Jasper’s body began to boil. Everyone looked uneasy all of a sudden, like they were all feeling _something_ , but no one could tell what.

“It’s totally toxic,” the blonde girl from earlier muttered, at the front of the crowd.

“Shame,” the guard replied. “I was hoping life would actually give me a break for once.”

“Monty, you’re freezing,” Jasper whispered to his friend as Monty began to straighten, apparently feeling better.

“Yeah, I can feel that – you’re really hot. What’s happening?” Jasper looked around. Finn was making a face, and Miller, across the crowd, looked alarmed. He spotted Murphy after a moment, eyes wide and face pale, like he was going to be sick.

“We’re probably all going to die,” Jasper replied, as Octavia was nudged out onto the ramp, the first person to step foot on the ground, even if it was going to kill them.

“Sweet,” Monty said. “Better here than up in space, right?”

Octavia jumped onto the ground, anyway, and screamed out, “we’re back bitches!”

It felt piercing for just a second, like someone was pressing a pin into his temple, but that was gone after a moment. The delinquents rushed out into the open, breathing in the breeze that was cool on their skin. Jasper’s temperature slowly lowered, and it was almost as if he could _feel_ it doing so; feel the cold air seeping into his body. He watched as a few kids kissed the ground, and others screamed with happiness. Monty and he stood by each other’s sides, looking around at the world that was theirs now.

“It’s so going to kill us,” someone else said, but no one seemed to care. Why would they? Dying on Earth was better than doing it up in space, and Jasper grinned, staring at the cloudless, blue sky.

“We made it,” he said, smiling with relief. Before Monty had a chance to respond, they were tackled into hugs by Harper and Monroe, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jas,” Harper frowned, before her smile returned. “You’re so hot, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong if I’m hot,” Jasper replied, rolling his eyes with a smirk. “I knew you’d always liked me.” Harper shoved him gently.

“You’re an idiot,” she replied, before pointedly wrapping her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder. “But your skin is also boiling.”

“Monty’s is freezing, to be fair,” Monroe replied. “Maybe you’re trying to even each other out?” Jasper shrugged.

“We’re probably dying,” Monty said.

“At least you’re doing it on Earth,” Monroe pointed out, before spinning around to look at the world around them.

“Don’t you feel strange at all?” Harper asked her. Monroe looked over.

“You _do?_ ” Harper nodded.

“It’s like I’m getting called from lots of different places,” she said slowly, frowning. “Like, my name is being yelled a lot.”

“By… people?”

“By things – like the Dropship, or the trees, or the supplies. I feel like _inanimate objects_ are calling to me.” The group was silent for a second, before Monroe reached over and grabbed Monty’s hand, pulling it and pressing his palm against her girlfriend’s forehead.

“There,” she said. “I think you guys are dehydrated or something.”

“You mean you actually feel fine?” Jasper asked, looking over Monty’s arm at her. She nodded.

“Yeah, I feel like I have two feet on the ground, and Earth is where I’m supposed to be. That’s what we _should_ be feeling – we’ve lived in space our whole lives, for Christ’s sake.”

The feelings slowly faded; Monty and Jasper’s skin returned to normal, and the rations that were supposed to be sent with them were too far away to reach. A small group of them – Jasper, Monty, Finn, Octavia, and the blonde, Clarke – had gone searching, only to come across a river. Clarke had frowned at her map, and told them that it would be a few hours of walking to get to the bridge, so they turned back, Finn saying that he _smelt_ an animal nearby.

Jasper decided that the radiation probably made them all crazy, but went with it anyway, as Finn pulled a knife from his belt – one that had been sent with them on the Dropship – and managed to kill a small wild black cat – “maybe a puma,” Finn had shrugged, about three-quarters of the size of Jasper.

They dragged it back to camp, and Clarke talked to Bellamy, the guard, who seemed to be taking charge.

“Mount Weather is too far for today,” Clarke told him as they approached camp, hefting the cat between them. “Maybe we could go tomorrow at dawn?” Bellamy looked at the food, at the fire pit being made, and frowned.

“How far would it be?”

“There and back? At least twelve hours,” Clarke replied. “If we spent a day going and getting the rations-“

“There’s clearly animals nearby,” Bellamy interjected. “We could probably survive off of the rations in the Dropship for a good few weeks, and hunt too. We’d have to take a bigger group to go get them all, and that’s just too many people to risk out in the forest on their own.” Clarke looked like she was about to argue it – that the rations could be important, but someone called Bellamy’s name, and he turned, briefly touching his hand to her arm, before yelling that he would be with the other person in a moment.

“You’re right,” Clarke said, surprising both of them, as Bellamy pulled his hand away. “We’ll hunt for now. We should get started on fortifying this place, then, if this is where we’re staying.”

Bellamy was looking a little dumbfounded, as Clarke turned to walk away, but nodded anyway.

“We found some tents in the Dropship,” he called weakly after her. Jasper watched for a moment as Bellamy shook his head, before turning away, and Clarke came back over.

“Right, we’re not going to be heading back to Mount Weather – it’s too far – so who knows how to cook?” Finn frowned at her.

“Are you sure, Clarke? Earlier you were saying it’s important for us to get those rations.” Clarke nodded.

“I’m sure,” she said, before turning back to the dead animal. “We should probably skin it first, right?”


	2. NATHAN MILLER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm gonna be honest: there probably wont be another update for three weeks. I'm going away tomorrow and won't be back for a while, so - this is what you get. Sorry. I hope you enjoy though :)

**NATHAN MILLER**

Miller missed space for all of two minutes, when it came right down to it. He missed the people more than the atmosphere; missed his father and his slipping of extra rations when he was on duty in the Sky Box. Miller missed Bryan – _God_ , did he miss Bryan. They’d been together for at least a year, but Miller hadn’t seen him in three days. Apparently no one had received visitors in that time – Miller had heard there was an outbreak that kept them from seeing their loved ones.

Whatever it was, Miller was silently praying, his hand enclosed around his wrist band in the middle of the night, that Bryan was okay – that he would make it to the ground, same as Miller.

They’d put up all of their tents as the first order of business. The guard, Bellamy, and the blonde girl, Clarke, took charge, and the group of delinquents turned into a – slightly queasy – machine. They were building a camp around the Dropship; each sharing tents and sharing the food around the campfire. Miller had no idea how long it would actually last, but he was optimistic, at least.

Still, he thought as he began to drift to sleep at last, everyone was acting off. They’d been told about the planet being soaked in radiation – so why was it okay for them to be there now? Wouldn’t it kill them?

“It could do,” Murphy whispered into the dart of their tent. Miller opened his eyes, realising he’d spoken out loud. Miller was friends with almost all of the delinquents in some capacity, and shared a tent with Murphy and Mbege, two assholes who liked him enough to share a space with him. Murphy’s voice sounded scratchy and hoarse in the dark, like someone who’d been screaming for hours. “I read once-“Miller snorted. Murphy huffed. “ _Okay_ , fine. My mum used to tell me stories about superheroes in comic books,” Murphy amended. “When it comes to radiation – if it doesn’t kill you, you definitely get powers from it.”

“You think that’s what this is?” Miller asked quietly, so not to wake Mbege.

“Yeah,” Murphy replied. “I think everyone’s either going to die from this, or we’re going to get some bad ass super powers.” Miller didn’t reply, and neither did Murphy. Neither were particularly great options – Miller’s father had told him about superheroes, too; and they were always marked for great tragedy. Miller didn’t want that hanging over his head.

Eventually, the two of them fell asleep, and Miller dreamt of the moment the door opened once again. The second the air squealed into the Dropship that morning, Miller had felt light, as if a weight had dropped from his shoulders. He couldn’t tell if that was something science-related, due to the pressure in space – but it felt strange on his skin; a tingling sensation down his arms, and pin-pricking at the back of his neck.

The air felt so cool on his skin; it felt like he was a part of it-

Even in the dream, Miller cut himself off. They all ran out into the open clearing, screaming and yelling and taking the moment to be on Earth, even if they were going to die from radiation. He took deep breaths; breaths that felt whole and curling in his chest, like the air seeped through his lungs and into his organs, his bones, his blood.

Then, there was a gust of wind – and Miller’s feet flew from the ground. It wasn’t a tugging; it was more like he was a kite from the pre-bomb era; floating and letting the breeze lift him, not force him. But Miller was screaming; yelling and calling out as everyone around him didn’t even register his presence. No one noticed as Miller flew higher and higher into the sky, shouting for help but not being heard over the wind.

His friends became dots in the distance, and all he could see was the trees – laid out in every direction. Then clouds, the blue of the sky, turning darker, darker-

Miller began to drift through space, still breathing but not. He was floating around, his heart clenched inside his chest. _The Ark_ , dream-Miller breathed, turning and facing the space station that loomed ahead of him. He was floating still, now, right in front of a door. He recognised it, only vaguely, as an air lock-

Like the ones they floated people from.

Miller woke up with a jolt; his head hitting the nylon fabric of the tent ceiling. But… he had been able to stand up in his tent the evening before – he barely had to bend over. How could he be reaching the ceiling now?

It became apparent with a startled cry. Miller looked to where his friends had been sleeping, but no one was there, just empty space. He glanced down, finding them below him.

Murphy stared up at him in shock, and Miller looked down, eyes wide, from where he was floating in mid-air.

All of a sudden, he dropped, hitting the ground hard. Pain flared in his body – but nothing serious. Miller imagined he’d have a few bruises, but he didn’t care, lying back and staring at the ceiling.

“What the fuck was that?” Miller breathed after a moment, fear riddled in his voice.

“Bad ass super powers,” Murphy guessed. Miller glanced over, his friend pale and shaking slightly. “You were floating, man.” Flashing before his eyes, the image of him being lifted up by the wind and floating away, made Miller clamp his eyes shut. That wasn’t possible, was it? Even if… _levitation_ was, getting taken away by the breeze wasn’t possible, right?

“For someone so grounded, I think this is pretty fucking ironic,” Murphy said after a beat, and Miller didn’t even have it in him to snort.

The two of them actively didn’t mention the incident as the day went on. Everyone was looking rattled in some way – like something terrible had happened to them during the night, like they’d seen the devil or maybe just the Ark, in their dreams. (Who knew the difference, anyway?)

The Chancellor’s kid, Wells, seemed better than most, trying to help out some of the younger kids when it came to building a wall for the camp. But no one was particularly _fine_.

“How was your night?” Monty asked as Miller sat down with them by the fire.

“Normal,” Miller replied, voicing the lie to come out evenly. Miller was two things: a good liar, and a good thief. He wasn’t going to lose either of those talents _now_ , just because he’d gained a horrific, terrifying one.

“I think Jasper’s ill,” Monty continued, nodding over to where Jasper’s skin was slick with sweat; his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Aren’t you?” Miller asked, nodding towards Monty’s blanket around his shoulders. It wasn’t cold in the slightest, but it wasn’t boiling. It was humid, at the most, but Monty had at least three layers and that was a little worrying.

“I might be, too,” Monty replied. “I think this radiation is going to get us quicker than we thought.” Miller looked up as Harper joined them on the ground, a pack of rations in her hand.

“How are you doing?” Miller asked, nodding to where Harper was twitching. She shut her eyes, almost annoyed, before breathing out slowly. Monroe sat next to her, immediately carding her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair as Harper rested her head on Monroe’s shoulder.

“Shitty,” Harper replied. “I think I’m going crazy.”

“She kept hearing the tent _talk_ to her,” Monroe added, frowning. Miller furrowed his brow in confusion.

“The tent _talked_ to you?”

“Not like, actual talking,” Harper huffed. “But, I felt it calling me – like I’m connected with it, or something.”

“I think you need some sleep,” Miller replied.

“Couldn’t get any,” she muttered in response. “The lamp was screaming inside my head.” Miller’s eyes settled on the way her jaw locked defiantly, like she wasn’t going to let her connection with objects take her down, and nodded.

“I’m sure it’ll fade,” he said, a fake sentiment. It was either going to increase or she was going to die – just like all of them. Just like him, and his _floating_.

The day went about similarly; everyone was asking how everyone else was feeling, and people were either utterly confused at how others were feeling ill, or acting as if they were going to die. Miller stopped off next to Clarke, who was avoiding Wells, and handed her a knife as she tried to cut some bandage by tearing it apart. People were injuring themselves _and_ feeling awful. It wasn’t a good time to be alive.

“Thanks,” she muttered, cutting the bandage and finishing wrapping it around someone’s wound. After the kid left, she looked over at him. “Don’t tell me you’re injured, too,” she said with a sigh. Miller shook his head.

“Came to see how you’re doing.” Clarke raised a pointed eyebrow.

“We don’t know each other,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. “We’ve never known each other.”

“We were in the same Science class,” he replied, sitting up on the cot. “And Maths, History of Earth, English I think – if you had Miss W-“

“I get it,” Clarke interrupted. “We know each other at a distance.”

“Enough to sign that card when your dad got floated,” he replied evenly, watching as Clarke’s face closed off. She nodded before slipping up onto the cot with him.

“How are _you_ doing?” Clarke asked, not answering the question Miller had asked in the first place. He shrugged.

“As well as I can be,” he replied.

“No strange side effects of the radiation?” she questioned. “No illness, voices in your head, super strength?” Miller scoffed, but didn’t reply. He was forming an answer in his mind when she continued. “That’s not a yes… is it the super strength?” Miller glanced over, finding her with almost a glint in her eye, like this was all funny in some sick way.

Miller rubbed the back of his head; his hand brushing over his beanie – or, well, Bryan’s beanie. The one Bryan had given him whilst Miller was in lock up, saying _you can give it back when you get out of here_. He knew this wasn’t what Bryan meant, but he was thankful to have something of the person he loved with him – no one else got that privilege.

“I woke up and I was floating in mid-air,” he told her, and the glint in her eye disappeared.

“Really?” she asked. He nodded. “Bellamy should have never opened the Dropship door,” she muttered.

“If he hadn’t, we would have run out of oxygen,” Miller told her. “The Ark shouldn’t have sent us down here.” Clarke shrugged.

“ _They’re_ running out of oxygen,” she sighed. “They want to know if Earth is survivable – if they can all come down here with us.” Miller eyed her for a moment, before nodding and holding up his arm, clad with the wrist band. “To check our vitals,” she nodded. “I bet they’re seeing all sorts of shit on them.”

“They’ll never come down,” Miller said.

“That’s what Bellamy said, too,” Clarke agreed. “The Ark won’t come down with our vitals all spiking out of control from these illnesses.”

“Have you had any side effects?” Miller asked, and Clarke slipped off of the table, placing the bandage back in the first aid kit.

“No,” she replied, not facing him. He guessed that was because her face would give away the truth – but her voice did it, too. Not everyone learns how to expertly lie on Alpha station – just those with head guards of fathers, and crimes to cover up.

-

There was a revolt in the afternoon.

Nothing big, but the rumour had gotten around that the one hundred delinquents were all guinea pigs for the Ark – that they were sent down to die. They turned on Bellamy, the guard, pretty easily, after that.

Miller watched it all happen; watched as the first person began to yell and Bellamy rolled his eyes. Others came to watch, carefully eyeing the situation and not sure if they should get involved; which side they should be on.

“It’s _your_ fault we’re down here! Yours and the Ark!” someone was yelling, pointing their finger in his face. Bellamy huffed, bending the offending finger backwards as they cried out.

“I’m not a real guard,” he told them, and the crowd quietened. “I dressed as one to get on the Dropship. So let’s calm down and look at the situation a little more carefully.” He let go of the kid’s finger, and the boy stared up at him before nodding.

“Okay,” he replied, simply, before standing. It was like the anger had just dissipated from his body, and Miller watched as Bellamy frowned before nodded.

“Right, yeah. The _Ark_ is who treated you like criminals,” he continued, the boy moving back into the crowd. “They saw you all as worthless; as so useless to society that they could just _drop_ you onto Earth, wondering if you’d die.”

“That’s not true,” Wells interjected, stepping forward. “They wanted to see if it was survivable-“

“To see if something’s survivable, they have to find out if it’s likely they’d _die_ ,” Bellamy retorted with a glare. “They did this – _your father_ did this – knowing full well that everyone here could die, within minutes, hours, days. Hell, we could all be dead by the end of the week, and the Chancellor would have _expected_ it.”

“Bellamy,” Wells replied. “This isn’t some conspiracy – the Ark needs to know if it’s possible to live down here – to save our people!” Wells had reached Bellamy, now, was standing by his side. Bellamy shook his head, placing his hand on Wells’ shoulder.

“It’s naïve to think that way,” he stated. “We were sent down here to die, because everyone here was treated like a criminal up _there_. This is our chance to show them that we’re above that; that we knew we weren’t supposed to survive, so we’ll do it anyway.”

“A massive _screw you_ to the Ark,” Wells noted, not even arguing anymore. Bellamy hesitated before nodding.

“Yeah. A massive _screw you_ to the Ark.” Miller narrowed his eyes; the way the fight left Wells, how he agreed immediately with Bellamy. It was so out of character; so odd. He swallowed, looking around, but only a few others seemed bothered by whatever was happening.

Maybe Wells had changed his mind, or maybe Bellamy was being affected by the radiation, too.


	3. HARPER MCINTYRE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the previous two chapters, we had Jasper and Miller POVs. We covered the first few days on the ground, the weird side effects, Miller's starting levitating and something weird is going on with Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a lot happens in this chapter. This is one of the few LONG chapters. 4.7k to be exact. Enjoy!

**HARPER MCINTYRE**

 

They’d been on the ground for all of three days when Wells’ body turned up, just outside the camp borders, dead. At first, it was a scream – there were always screams; always people yelling and joking around. But then there was a second scream, and a third. Then someone shouted Bellamy’s name.

A girl came running into camp – through the massive hole in the wall that hadn’t yet been built. “Bellamy!” she was screaming. “Clarke! Anyone!”

Harper stepped out of her tent, Monroe close behind as they watched the girl – Roma, maybe – with tears streaming down her cheeks. She was breathing heavily; almost hyperventilating, as Bellamy stepped out of the Dropship, Clarke close behind. They hadn’t been on Earth long, but Harper knew there was some tension there – Bellamy was going for a more liberal way of ruling, while Clarke was determined to find a way to talk to the Ark again. Harper’s wrists no longer had a band, neither did a lot of people’s. Clarke still wore hers, same as Miller and Finn – but most people didn’t have anyone left up there to care about; to want to know that they were still alive.

“What happened?” Bellamy asked, heading down the ramp and onto the ground. Roma sobbed out her reply; broken up with coughs and sharp breaths, but it came out as a simple message: Wells Jaha was dead in a pool of his own blood.

There was almost a riot.

“I can’t believe this,” Monroe muttered as the crowd followed Bellamy and Clarke out of camp. The two of them stayed behind, watching, before looking to each other. “One of us is a murderer?”

“Roe, _a lot_ of us are murderers – that’s why we’re here.”

“Assault and murder are two different things,” Monroe said in response with a shrug. Monty stepped out of the Dropship, looking at the end of the crowd, huddled by the trees. Jasper followed along behind him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Wells is dead,” Monroe replied.

“Well, shit,” Monty breathed, wandering over. “How did he die? Was it the radiation? I _said_ that was going to kill us.”

“Apparently there’s blood,” Harper shrugged, running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t think radiation does that, does it?”

“I don’t know,” Monty said. “We had strong amounts of solar radiation up on the Ark – so it’s all we know. Maybe the combination of the two causes blood?” There was a scoff and Harper looked up. Miller was storming back from the crowd, over towards them.

“Couldn’t hang out with a dead body?” Jasper joked, following along behind Miller, who gave him the middle finger in return.

“It’s not radiation, it’s murder. Someone stabbed him in the throat – who even does that?” Miller asked, disgusted.

“Dax killed a guy,” Monroe supplied.

“Luca,” Harper nodded.

“I heard Mary killed her parents.”

“Jodie.”

“Chris.”

“Tate-“

“I get it,” Miller interrupted. “We’re surrounded by cold-blooded killers.”

“Not _surrounded_ ,” Monroe said. “They’re just _dappled_ about, you know?”

“If I didn’t know what you were in for, I’d punch you,” Miller replied dryly. Monroe snorted and Harper smiled, even though the now-familiar ticking had started up in the back of her head.

“What, me being a girl doesn’t matter?” Monroe asked sarcastically.

“Call it feminism,” Miller replied, rolling his eyes. “And that because I _do_ know what you were in for, I know that I probably couldn’t take you one on one.” Monroe grinned, before the crowd began to filter back into camp.

“Stop smiling,” Jasper hissed, nodding over to where Wells’ body was being carried in the middle of the crowd. Bellamy brought him through, blood dripping onto the grass, Clarke following behind with silent tears streaming down her face.

“Poor girl,” Harper sighed.

“They were best friends, right?” Monty asked, looking at the group. Miller nodded.

“Since birth,” he agreed.

“Who’d want to kill that guy?” Monroe questioned next. “He was a good person.”

“Also the Chancellor’s son,” Jasper pointed out. “I bet it was Mbege or someone like that.”

“Why?” Miller asked.

“Because they were more explicit about their hatred – but we all _do_ have reasons to hate Jaha,” Jasper replied, pausing as he thought through his logic. Harper twitched, feeling the tent call to her. There were no voices; just a tugging in the back of her mind – like a string coming from her to the nylon fabric. She winced as it pulled tighter; almost feeling the tentacles of its essence reaching for her.

“Harper,” Monroe said, placing her hand on Harper’s arm. She shook her slightly. “Babe, come on, where are you?” Harper blinked a few times, forcing herself away from the tent and focusing on Monroe.

“I’m here, I am,” she replied, swallowing and nodding.

“Are you sure?” Harper’s friends were all looking at her warily again – it had been like this since they landed. Sure, mostly everyone was experiencing side effects of being on the ground – Jasper was constantly hot, Monty cold, her talking to objects. But it wasn’t like this for other people, it seemed. No one else was hearing the trees call out for her; no one else was feeling like they could _control_ the trees, if they tried.

It was just her, and not even Monroe was going to understand that.

“Yeah,” Harper lied with a nod. “I’m sure. Just a headache.” Monroe didn’t look like she believed her, but she just nodded.

“We should get back to the wall,” Monroe replied. “Bellamy and Clarke are going to search for bunkers, right?” Miller nodded.

“Yeah, I think Finn has been finding them, so he’ll probably take them there.”

“That guy has been finding everything,” Jasper muttered. “He said he could _smell_ them, yesterday. How crazy is that?”

“Radiation, man,” Monty replied, shaking his head. Harper huffed. Fucking radiation.

They got to work on the wall again – it wasn’t going to build itself. When the sun was right above them, Bellamy carried Wells’ body back through camp, Clarke leading him along. People stopped and watched – the Princess and their Rebel King, carrying the dead Prince. Harper swallowed, watching in silence as strode past.

After a moment, they disappeared into the trees; to the section of ground Wells had made into a graveyard. Harper bet he hadn’t seen himself ending up there so soon.

Without Wells, though, they kept going. Clarke was silent for the most part, and Bellamy was angry. Everyone was trying to figure out who would kill one of their own, it didn’t feel like something any of them would do. They’d killed on the Ark, but this was a new leaf; a new life. This was their second chance and someone had ruined it.

As Harper passed a log of wood up to Miller, standing on top of the wall, Clarke stormed through camp.

“You!” She yelled. “You fucking bastard!” Harper swung around to watch Clarke approach Murphy. He’d been looking more pale than she’d ever seen before, and his eyes looked lifeless. There were bags under his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping, but Miller assured her that he had.

“What’s up, Princess?” he asked, putting down a pack of rations from where he and a few others were meant to be packing them into crates.

“ _You killed him!”_

It was anarchy. The Princess’ tears dropped down the ground as she screamed her throat hoarse. The delinquents lowered their tools and picked up their weapons, forming a circle around the scene. Bellamy watched on, glaring and silent. This wasn’t right, Harper thought. This wasn’t them taking their second chance – this was them throwing it to the dogs.

She swallowed, standing at the back of the crowd as the first onlooker called for blood. They wanted blood. They wanted to watch Murphy die like he killed Wells – though he denied and denied and denied that he had done that.

“It wasn’t me,” he told them. Someone screamed _lies_ , and that just fuelled the crowd more. Clarke looked wrecked; her hair hanging lifeless and limp, with little pink stains from where Wells’ blood had seeped onto her. Her cheeks were damp and her hand clutched at Murphy’s knife – one she’d found near the body.

It was like a court case – one of the ones she’d watched as a child where the council decided who was innocent and who was guilty. Harper remembered standing at the back wall, watching them all fly past her – her parents were both factory workers, but Harper had always wanted more. She wanted to be there on the council, deciding how the Ark should function – but as she watched Jaha read out sentences, her dreams shrivelled inside her chest. Harper couldn’t understand how any one man – any six, any one hundred – could decide the fate of another human being.

And yet she watched it now. She watched them pull up circumstantial evidence – Murphy’s knife, one he’d lost as he claimed; his threats, much like everyone else’s; his anger, shared with the people around him. But there was nothing to point to anyone else, and suddenly the crowd became a mob, and the court case a riot.

Harper lost sight of Murphy, who’d fallen to the ground, pelted with fists and slurs. She watched in horror as children became fighters; bringers of justice. Clarke was on the outside of the crowd, the same expression as Harper, and Bellamy following along, anger etched across his face.

“Monroe?” Harper called, looking around. Her girlfriend was in the crowd, near the back but still heading along with everyone else. Harper ducked forward, dragging her out by the elbow.

“What are you doing?” Monroe asked.

“What are _you_ doing?”

“That bastard killed Wells,” she replied, like it was obvious.

“So you kill him in return? Then you’d be no better than Murphy in the first place,” Harper glared. “This isn’t how we should do things.”

“Look around,” Monroe sighed. “This is who we are.” Harper did look around; she looked at the silent, stoic trees, letting the chaos surround them. She looked at the mob; at Murphy’s arms being tied up and his mouth being gagged. He was bloody and covered in mud – no one seemed as if they were going to stop. Harper looked to Clarke, glaring at the Princess.

“Look at what you’ve done,” she hissed at the other girl. Clarke stared back in shock. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. Bellamy glanced back at him, arms crossed over his chest. “If he dies, that’s on you.” Harper didn’t know exactly where the spite from, but she felt in her bones that she was right. This was Clarke’s fault – Clarke who couldn’t have done this in private; Clarke who should have realised that mob mentality was a thing; Clarke who hadn’t stepped foot in the Sky Box properly, learnt that they were all _criminals_ , learnt that they’d do terrible things if given the chance.

Clarke locked eyes with Bellamy for a moment, before darting forward into the crowd. Bellamy went running, and both girls were left standing behind.

They watched as a rope was thrown over a branch and Murphy was hoisted into the air. Monroe gagged, bending over and retching into a bush as Murphy squirmed; his whimpers covered by the gag, and his legs kicking out wildly.

Harper felt the bile rise in her throat at the image; at the monsters they could be. She held back Monroe’s hair as her girlfriend vomited, forcing herself to keep the little food in her stomach down.

After a several moments too long, the rope was cut and Murphy fell to the ground. Then there was silence – silence and a girl crying. Monroe straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Harper ran her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair.

“You alright?” she asked quietly, Monroe nodding in response.

“I never thought I’d see that,” she replied. Harper shook her head, agreeing. There was a wail, and then the crowd parted, a young girl darting out and disappearing into a tent. “Who was that?” Monroe asked and Harper shrugged. Clarke went running after her, and Bellamy behind, two leaders following each other no matter what.

“Charlotte!” Bellamy called, looking around.

“Apparently her name’s Charlotte,” Harper said to Monroe, who rolled her eyes. It wasn’t time for a joke, it seemed. Bellamy glanced over to them and Harper pointed to the tent Charlotte had ducked into. “That one.” Bellamy nodded his thanks, approaching the tent quietly.

The crowd seemed to disperse; looking for Charlotte and waiting for something to come out of Murphy’s hanging. Harper looked down the hill, to where Murphy was sitting, hands tied behind his back as Mbege pulled the gag down. She headed down towards him, Monroe following behind.

“What, want to hang me again?” he spit as they came close. Harper shook her head, kneeling down next to him and untying the ropes around his hands. Monroe lifted the noose from his neck.

“I threw up watching that, actually,” Monroe replied. “If we did it again there’d be nothing left to come up apart from my organs.” Murphy didn’t seem to like the way Monroe tried to lighten the mood, and tugged his hands away from Harper when the rope was loose enough.

“What are you gonna do?” Mbege asked, helping Murphy up. The two girls stood with them.

“I’m gonna kill that little bitch,” he hissed.

“Which one?” Monroe asked. He sent her a look.

“The one that killed Wells and let me take the heat for it,” he replied. “She’s gonna die.”

“Isn’t she like, eleven?” Harper crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at him. His face was regaining what little colour it had, but his neck was bruised and purple. There was blood caked across his forehead, seeping out through his t-shirt, and mud covering his hands.

“She was already a criminal, wasn’t she?” Murphy asked, shooting daggers at all of them. “She should know not to commit more crimes.”

“So should you,” Monroe pointed out. Harper nodded.

“Killing her would be a crime,” she agreed.

“Shut up,” Murphy said in response, pushing them away and heading towards the camp, where the crowd was forming a loose circle around the tent. No one was sure if it was still going on; if Murphy would just let it go, or if the girl would get the same punishment, because…

“She should be punished, right?” Harper asked, looking at Monroe. Her girlfriend paused before shrugging.

“Logically, yes. She murdered so she should have a punishment. But she’s also a kid – so maybe not getting attacked and then hanged-“

“Hanging is a shitty death,” Harper added, as the two followed Murphy back up the hill. “Could have just been stabbed or something.” Monroe shrugged.

“It’s not up to us though, is it? It’s up to Bell and Clarke.” And it was, because they were the leaders. It was like the court cases all over again – the select few who had taken leadership for themselves deciding the fate of others. It was something Clarke and Bellamy had no right to do, yet they were going to anyway because everyone looked to them for orders. Murphy couldn’t decide Charlotte’s fate, and neither could Harper – they had no right either.

“This isn’t going to go well,” Harper muttered, and it didn’t.

Clarke and Finn ran away with Charlotte, and Murphy began a manhunt for her. The sky slowly turned dark and Monroe held a torch, lighting their way through the woods, like so many others. They followed Murphy and his group – the ones who wanted to see Charlotte die because she should get the same punishment as him. They followed along out of interest, and slightly out of fear to what might happen if Murphy didn’t have their logic and too-soon jokes.

It ended on a cliff-face. Bellamy punching Murphy in the face and Charlotte crying her eyes out. Rain started to pour from the sky and Harper could feel the finality – she could feel the doom heading towards them. It wasn’t the same as her twitches – the feelings of everyone’s torches yearning for her; their weapons reaching for her hands – it was just a knowing. A sense of dread.

She watched in silence as Charlotte stepped away from the cliff-face, plummeting to her death. Monroe’s hand slipped into hers, squeezing tightly, tightly, tightly, like she’d never let go. Harper didn’t want her to.

“We make the rules now,” Clarke told Bellamy, huffing, a minute later. “We decide what happens.” It was like they didn’t before, in their heads, Harper thought. Like they didn’t see themselves as the leaders, but just taking on the role and hoping for the best. But now they were choosing it – now they were promising that they weren’t going to let this happen again: they weren’t going to wrongfully hang a boy, have a girl driven to suicide, and then-

“We banish him.” Murphy cried in the darkness, as Bellamy looked to the group that had been following.

“You either come back to camp with us, or stay and be exiled with him.” It was a no brainer, and one by one the torches turned; the delinquents heading back to camp. Harper and Monroe watched, staring at Murphy’s shaking body as he sobbed. Bellamy sent them a pointed look as he passed, and Harper nodded.

“We’ll be with you in a second,” she promised, before the two girls went to Murphy’s side. They weren’t friends with him, not by a long shot – but the universe was cruel to those who already were hurting. Harper didn’t find that fair. They crouched down beside Murphy; Monroe’s hand rubbing a small circle on his back, and Harper’s fingers carding through his hair. He looked up.

“You’re not going back to camp?” he asked. Maybe there was supposed to be spite in his voice, but it just came out sad.

“We wanted to say goodbye,” Monroe replied quietly. “You don’t deserve this.” He eyed them both carefully for a moment, before ducking his head again.

“Maybe I do,” he said.

“You don’t,” Harper swore. “You don’t deserve this pain. One day it’ll go – one day you’ll be okay again.” He shook his head.

“I’ll never be okay again,” he said to them, voice bitter. “I’ve been hearing their voices ever since we landed.”

“Whose voices?”

“The dead,” he replied, looking up. Harper swallowed, gritting her teeth, as she searched his eyes. They were so broken, so truthful, she felt a pain in her chest. “I can hear the ghosts talking to me – people I knew, people I’ve never met. Everywhere I go, they’re there. Sometimes I see them, too.” John Murphy had been dealt a shitty hand, and played the best he could. Sometimes people were set up to lose.

Harper hearing objects in her mind didn’t seem nearly as bad as ghosts. She thought she was alone in hearing voices, but Murphy had it too, only worse. Having the tent talk to her now felt easy; now felt _normal_ , like a blessing.

“I’m sorry,” Monroe said, sticking the torch into the ground, before standing. “Don’t listen to the ghosts – they’ll only tell you lies.” Harper smiled sadly, pressing her lips to his temple, before shaking her head.

“They’re all bitter, ghosts,” she told him. “All angry that the universe could let them die. But you’re not like that – you’re bitter the universe let you live in the first place.” Murphy let out a scoff and she nodded. “You're a survivor, Murphy,” Harper promised. “You’ll survive.”

Harper stood up then, leaving Murphy kneeling on the ground, Monroe’s torch in front of him. The other lights were dots in the distance, and the two girls heading carefully towards them, climbing over roots and holding each other’s hand so not to lose one another, meeting Bellamy and his torch by a tree.

“What was that about?” he asked, jaw stiff.

“Saying goodbye,” Monroe replied, before nodding them onwards. Bellamy watched them for a second, but kept going anyway.

“I didn’t know you were his friends,” Bellamy said, his torch lighting the ground in front of them. Harper shook her head.

“We’re not,” she shrugged. “But I guess he needed one.”

There was almost a hole the next morning. It was like Harper could just _feel_ that three of their people were gone. Like they’d torn themselves apart and barely managed to sew up the wound again. When they’d returned the night before, Monroe and Harper had found Miller in their tent, and now Harper was awake, he was still there, sleeping. He’d been sharing his tent with Murphy and Mbege, and Harper guessed he didn’t want to be in there with only the latter of the two now.

Monroe woke up shortly afterwards, and Harper looked over to the girl, curled around her body.

“Morning,” she whispered, a smile floating across her lips. Amongst all the darkness of the night before; Murphy’s sobs that still echoed around her mind, Harper found a light in Monroe; in the dusting of freckles across her cheeks, in her fingers grazing lightly over the skin of her hip.

“Morning,” Monroe replied. She pressed a kiss against Harper’s shoulder, and snuggled into her warmth. Her dark orange hair fell across her eyes before she huffed. “This is really getting annoying.” Harper smiled.

“What, your hair?” Monroe nodded.

“I’m on the hunting team now, I can’t have my hair constantly getting in the way.” Monroe frowned, lifting up a hand to brush the hair away from her face.

“I could braid it back for you, if you’d like,” Harper suggested, her voice quiet in the early morning. Monroe raised her eyebrows before smiling.

“I’d like,” she replied.

Miller woke up some twenty minutes later, Harper and Monroe looking at him; Harper sitting behind Monroe with her fingers tangled into her girlfriend’s hair. They were frowning at him, before he dropped to the floor from where he was floating above it.

“Ow,” he complained.

“ _Normal_ my ass,” Harper said as a greeting, and Miller huffed, shutting his eyes. Harper looked back to Monroe’s hair, separated into three sections that she’d brushed through with her fingers. She kept plaiting the middle section, before reaching the end and tying it off.

“So you’re freaky,” Monroe summed up as Miller sat up under his blanket.

“I’m not freaky,” he responded grouchily.

“You were floating,” Monroe pointed out, and Harper supressed a smile. “Seems pretty freaky to me.” Miller rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend talks to inanimate objects,” he retorted, and Monroe snorted. Harper sighed though – the twitching was getting more frequent, and she could hear her knife in the back of her mind. She could _feel_ it, too; like there were possibilities in the area surrounding it – as if there were possibilities of what to do with it.

“At least yours could be useful,” Harper replied, gathering another section of Monroe’s hair. Harper looked at her knife though, looked at the area around it; felt the air, the essence, the options. After a moment, the knife shifted. It was a little twinge – like a shake, and Harper widened her eyes.

Did she do that?

Or was she imagining things?

Miller was still talking, and Harper swallowed, shaking the thought from her head and looking back to the plait. She had to braid Monroe’s hair. Not imagine knives moving. That was stupid.

Harper forced her fingers back into the braiding motions as Miller tied up his boots.

“I bet Bellamy’s up,” he said. “I’ll see when the hunting group is going out.”

“They didn’t go looking for bunkers yesterday,” Monroe replied. “So maybe he’ll do that and send us out on our own.” Miller nodded, all of them skirting around the subject of _why_ they didn’t go searching for bunkers. He climbed out of the tent, and Harper finished braiding her girlfriend’s hair in silence – she didn’t feel like talking when she thought she was going crazy.

Harper bet that was how Murphy felt.

-

Harper was helping to build the wall. The two search teams – one for bunkers, one for food – had left a few hours before, and Harper had stayed behind. They were using a lot of fallen trees to build up the walls, and she had wandered out into the woods to find another. That’s when it happened.

It was sudden; her twirling her knife around her fingers, and then a body jumped out into her view.

The person was dressed in black; gas mask covering their face and a gun pointed at her.

“Hands up!” the man barked. Harper shook, pausing before darting behind a tree. As she ran, the man fired; bullets sprayed the ground behind her. Harper’s breathing was already rapid – too fast too soon, she had to get back to camp.

But what would happen there? The gunman would kill her friends? No, this had to be sorted now.

All she had was the knife – so…

The man didn’t move quietly; leaves and twigs crunched under his steps and Harper slowly shifted around the tree. She jumped out, hoping to stab him with her knife, but he rammed his gun into her. Harper went sprawling; the man pointing his gun at her now, finger on the trigger.

“Hands up,” he ordered once more. Harper swallowed. Her knife wasn’t in her hand anymore – _where is it where is it where is it_. She looked around hurriedly as he repeated the order again. Harper’s eyes caught sight of it a few metres away. Too far to reach without being shot.

She shoved her hands up, and the man slowly moved towards her.

This was her chance. This was her only chance. Those feelings she’d been having since they landed – the callings, the twinging knife that morning. If it didn’t work now; it would never have the chance to.

Harper focused on the knife; on the air around it, on the possibilities of what she could do with it. She felt that familiar pull in the back of her mind – like she was reaching out and grasping at the essence that was pulling towards her already.

She didn’t know how it worked – how she knew how to do it. She just did; like the information was suddenly there for her.

Harper imagined the knife flying at the man, stabbing him in the neck, just like Wells. She watched in awe as it happened; as the knife leapt off of the ground and into his neck.

The gunman staggered back, grasping at the knife, and she took the chance to stand.

She and Monroe had been locked up for the same reason. Assault. Assault of guards to be exact. They met for the first time in the cell they shared, and it wasn’t long before their fighting turned to friendship.

Considering Harper was _winning_ the fight against the guard before more joined in, she was sure of her abilities.

Harper swung at him, knocking him backwards again. He left the knife in, but was scrambling for something – for a kit that was attached to his belt. Harper frowned but didn’t have time to care, as she punched him to the ground. His gun flew away and Harper raised her hand for it – _understanding_ the object, not just seeing it.

The pistol hadn’t hit the ground before it was shooting back into her hand. “Telekinesis,” she mused, having heard the word before and finally being able to put an image to it. “Nice.” Harper pointed the gun at him, and the man squirmed. She was pretty sure she wasn’t a killer – that she wouldn’t be able to do this, but he didn’t have to know.

And he never did. The man grappled at the knife in his neck, at the slit in the suit he was wearing. Harper only now noticed the finer details of the man – the oxygen tank he was wearing, the lack of visible skin.

On a hunch, she leaned forward, holding the edge of his mask. He gargled a protest, but nothing came of it. Harper slowly pulled away the mask, and he gasped.

Almost immediately, burns spread across his face, and he stopped moving, staring at the leaves above them.

Harper knelt down next to him, heart in her throat, gun in her hand, and looked at the kit he’d been pulling from his belt. There was a name that meant nothing to her, but the next line made her hesitate.

_Jeffery Hart, Mount Weather Security_


	4. CLARKE GRIFFIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously on radioactive: people died, people lived, murphy has been exiled and harper was attacked by a guard from mount weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only have a few chapters left to write and it's been like five days so WHY NOT POST THIS CHAPTER HUH
> 
> its the clarke one
> 
> its slightly shorter sorry

**CLARKE GRIFFIN**

 

She knew they shouldn’t have opened the goddamn door. They should have stayed in the Dropship and suffocated to death. That would have been preferable – okay, it wouldn’t have, but if they’d done that Clarke wouldn’t be in this situation.

She wouldn’t be looking for bunkers with Bellamy, Finn the human sniffer hound up ahead, sending them curious and annoyed glances, and well, she wouldn’t be having this strange _power_ … because that’s what their lives were like now. They had _powers_.

They’d buried Wells the day before, and her face was still a little red from being awake all night, crying. There was a deep sadness that had hollowed out her chest, but Clarke preferred not to focus on it. She’d thought about her father for a long time in lock up – it had stopped her from moving on and looking forward, even if forward was her inevitable death and never seeing anything outside of her cell again.

And then they were on Earth. _Earth_.

It was magical.

Only, the magic wasn’t what she expected. None of them had expected this.

People had been coming to her since they landed, as a self-appointed leader and the only person even marginally resembling a doctor. They’d been asking about their weird feelings; about the fact they were _sure_ a bird spoke to them, or they were definitely seeing different colours to normal. She couldn’t explain it – couldn’t even comfort them about it. Clarke couldn’t tell them that it would be alright, because, well, she wasn’t sure it would be.

She wasn’t sure if _she’d_ be alright, because her power was something on a different level to what she thought it would be.

Clarke had first realised her power during the first night.

They had left the bottom floor of the Dropship clear as the med bay, and she and a couple others were sleeping on the second and third floors. As she slept, Clarke had dreamt herself back into her cell – but this time, she could leave.

This time, she could just walk through the walls and leave her cell. In the dream, she wandered around the Ark; phasing through walls and doors and finding corners she’d only _heard_ about. Clarke had only left Alpha Station once, and that was on a tour around the Farm Station. She’d never been to Mecha or Factory in her life. But in her dream, she wandered everywhere.

Eventually, she walked through the door to Bellamy’s compartment – the one he’d grown up in, according to Octavia (who got a little chatty when she’d been drinking hundred year old whiskey that Finn had found in a bunker). She walked right in, and everyone was frozen; completely still.

Aurora Blake – a blur that she couldn’t focus on, was in the corner, and Bellamy, curly hair and bomber jacket, sat on his bed. Clarke couldn’t see Octavia, but as she stepped further into the room, she fell – literally _through_ the floor.

Clarke landed in Octavia’s hidey-hole; the one she stayed in for years without being found.

Clarke was only there for a second though, because she woke up to falling.

It was brief, and she landed in a pile of spare clothes and jackets, staring up at the ceiling which she’d _fallen through_.

-

“Clarke,” Finn called, waiting for her just below a ridge. Bellamy was a few steps ahead and she followed him down, wary of the ground. Clarke was always a little cautious about what she was stepping on now; about how she could just phase right through the Earth, and then where would she end up? Would she just keep sinking until she came out the other side? Or would she stop, suffocate under the earth, die down there?

It’s what kept her up at night, now, as she slept in the med bay instead, often waking up _under_ the cot which she’d gone to sleep on.

“Have you found one?” she asked, jogging to meet up with the other two. Finn nodded.

“Down there,” he replied, stamping his foot on a metal door. There was a combination at the lock, and a wheel to turn – but they wouldn’t be able to get through there without the code. Bellamy leant down, pressing a button. Where there were lights, none of them switched on.

“It’s busted,” he sighed. “But where there’s a lock like this, there’s good stuff to take.” Bellamy looked up at her with a frown. “What are you thinking?”

Clarke didn’t completely know, but she had an idea. She didn’t really _trust_ Bellamy Blake – hell, he wasn’t particularly trusting of her either, but she figured she’d have to, if they were co-leaders now. Finn, on the other hand…

She glanced up at him, before looking back to Bellamy. Finn had kissed her on the second night when she told him there was so little oxygen left up on the Ark. It was like that was all he needed; confirmation he had nothing left for him up there anymore. He had been a good kisser, sure; and his hands had roamed her skin, pressing her up against the back of the Dropship in broad daylight…

But she wasn’t sure about him. Wasn’t sure about how he was closed off later that day when Clarke had asked Monty to try and find a way to talk to the Ark. Wasn’t sure about the looks he sent, or how sure he was about having the right way to do things.

Bellamy – she could understand him. Clarke had an opinion about him, and she was comfortable with that. Finn, she couldn’t get a read on. Clarke didn’t like that.

“Finn, go see if you can find any other bunkers, meet us back here in thirty minutes,” she decided, looking back up at him.

“What are you going to do with this?” Finn asked, incredulous. “The lock doesn’t even work.” Clarke swallowed, clenching her jaw.

“You said your sense of smell has really improved since coming to Earth,” she said slowly, Bellamy watching the interaction silently. “Maybe some of my senses have improved too.” Finn huffed.

“Fine, but I don’t know what senses would fix _this_.” He stomped off, and Bellamy straightened.

“So you’ve got a plan?” he asked. Clarke watched Finn disappear over the ridge as she nodded.

“Something of a plan… half a plan.”

“Half a plan?”

“One twelfth of a plan,” she decided. Bellamy sighed, sending her a pointed look and she shrugged. “Not like you had anything better.” He nodded reluctantly, gesturing to the door.

“What’s the twelfth of the plan then?”

“Have you noticed people have been gaining weird powers since we landed?”

“Is that what we’re calling them?” he asked dryly. Clarke nodded.

“Yeah – well I’ve been experiencing something, so I guess it’s about time I try and control it, right?”

“It’s been like three days, Princess,” he replied. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Ah, but only half an hour to open the bunker before Finn comes back.” Bellamy nodded after a pause.

“Fair enough – so you’re going to get inside and open it from in there?” Clarke nodded.

“Hopefully.” Bellamy took a few steps back, nodding her forward. Clarke stepped onto the metal door of the bunker, and tried to focus on it. She’d managed to stick her hand through a wall, already – deciding to simply go with the change, rather than fight it, but it was still pretty nerve-wracking.

She breathed slowly, imagining herself sinking through the door. There was a bump, and she landed on the inside; darkness surrounding her.

“Holy shit!” Bellamy’s voice was muffled and distant through the metal, and she looked up, seeing only a crack of light. She huffed, pulling out her knife and gripping it tightly – who knew what was down there?

Clarke squinted into the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t see much – vague outlines and blurry objects. Nothing seemed to be moving, and there was silence for a beat.

“Clarke?” Bellamy called. “Clarke, you okay?”

“Yeah, Bellamy,” she replied. “It’s dark down here.”

“Can you see anything?”

“ _No_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes. “ _It’s dark down here._ ” Clarke could almost imagine him huffing as she cautiously stepped forward. She wondered if there was another level below – if she could phase through the floor and into the ground. Were their limits on her capabilities? Were there materials she couldn’t pass through?

She hoped she couldn’t go through dirt… or she couldn’t go through too much in one go. Clarke really didn’t want to end up inside the ground and she didn’t know how she was supposed to climb back out.

She shuffled forwards, placing a hand on the wall as she went, helping it guide her along. After a few steps, she caught a lucky break, and her hand bumped up against something that clanked. It felt metal, and she pried it down from the wall, taking it back to the crack of light.

“Do you have the matches?” she called up to Bellamy, staring at the ceiling. Among the supplies that were sent in the Dropship, there were crude weapons, mallets for the tents, and various basic supplies, like matches.

“Yeah, I do,” he responded. “How do I, uh…” Clarke swallowed, focusing her thoughts on her hand as she slowly pushed it through the metal and up into the air. “Holy fuck, Clarke – you’ve got to teach me that.” She supressed a smile as he pressed the box of matches into her hand. Slowly, she pulled her arm back down, matches still intact.

Quickly, Clarke lit the lantern she’d found on the wall, and looked about the door. There had to be a way to leave the bunker, right? An emergency button?

She used the dim light to scour the walls, before coming across another code pad. This time, there was another button on top, a glass case surrounding it. Clarke smiled to herself, slamming the case with the butt of her knife. As she pressed the button, there was a hiss as the pressure on the door released, and it swung open a little.

More light filtered into the dingy bunker as Bellamy pulled open the door. He took a few steps down inside before locating her and smiling wryly.

“I’m impressed. My radiation side effects aren’t nearly that useful.” Clarke quirked an eyebrow as Bellamy took back the matches, lighting a second lamp.

“What are yours?” she asked slowly, wandering along behind him. In the light, dust covered every surface. The shelves were mostly cluttered, and a few old paintings hung on the walls. Further towards the end, there were bunk beds, and Clarke moved to a book shelf, thumbing through the spines and looking at the various trinkets on the shelves.

“It’s nothing,” Bellamy replied after a beat.

“Come on,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I’ve heard a lot so far – Taylor’s pretty certain he can breathe underwater if he tries.” Bellamy snorted, looking along another shelf. “Jasper and Monty have both been acting off – Jasper’s burning up and Monty’s constantly freezing.”

“You think that has to do with their side effects?” he asked. Clarke shrugged.

“Maybe – they just haven’t figured out what they are yet.” Bellamy was silent for a moment.

“Do you think Murphy had any?” he asked, his voice quiet and low. Clarke swallowed before responding.

“Maybe,” she replied. “Not all of them seem to be of any use so far – so maybe his was something odd like being able to tell exactly when the sun’s going to rise.” She heard Bellamy’s breathing, as she moved along through the bunker. Bellamy moved into the space she was before, staring at the fragile spines of the books. “It doesn’t matter now,” she decided. “Besides, some people haven’t been showing any signs of the side effects – as if absolutely nothing has happened to them.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with our DNA,” he mused. Clarke nodded, wandering to a door.

“Bellamy,” she said, opening the door slowly. She leaned her lamp into the dark, and smiled. “There’s another room.” He was by her side in a moment as they searched through the next room.

She heard Bellamy’s startled laugh and looked up.

“What?”

“Guns,” he smiled – full on, real smiling. “They had guns.”

-

Apparently, the guns weren’t the big news of the day. The body that Harper had dragged through the woods was.

“What the fuck.” Clarke looked up at Bellamy, who was staring at the body, covered head to toe, blood seeping out and burns across its face.

“What the hell happened here?” Clarke asked. The delinquents turned towards them, from where they’d been standing around the body. Harper was chewing at the skin of her thumb, before sighing.

“He attacked me out in the woods,” she explained. “I fought back.”

“And you brought his body _here_?” Clarke asked. Harper shrugged.

“The burns only started when I took the air mask off of his face. I think he’s allergic to the air,” she replied. There was silence for a beat, before Bellamy shook his head.

“He has a gun?” Harper nodded.

“Two.”

“How did you kill him?” There was a pause, before Harper raised her hand out in front of her. The bag of rifles that Bellamy had been carrying, but dumped on the ground, began to float. It moved closer to them, levitating by itself, before she withdrew her hand and it felt back down to the ground. A few guns spilled out as it landed, but no one cared.

“Inanimate objects talking to you,” Clarke sighed, thinking about how Harper had mentioned she was feeling off some time before. Harper nodded. “This is insane.” She looked up to Bellamy, questioning him with her eyes as to what they were supposed to do.

“We bury the body,” he decided. “If there’s one of them, there’s more. Did he have a radio?” Harper nodded.

“It’s gone off once or twice,” she replied. Bellamy huffed.

“Okay. Destroy the radio, bury the body, finish building the wall. If anyone’s figured out their side effects of the radiation – like, uh, telekinesis – come to Clarke and I, and we’ll…” he trailed off.

“We’ll note it down, I guess,” Clarke finished. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, then come to us when you do.”

They dispersed; Bellamy and Clarke taking the guns into the Dropship and staring at each other in the silence for a moment. It was hopeless; they were helpless. They had powers, now, and they were the targets of people with guns, with technology.

“What are we going to do?” Clarke asked, quietly. “This is a mess.” She leaned against the cot, ducking her head and taking a few breaths as she tried to collect herself. Bellamy moved to her side, the tension seemingly dissipated between them as he rubbed slow circles across her back.

“We’re going to be okay,” he promised. “We’ll figure this out.” It wasn’t a click to agreeing with him, but Clarke nodded. He was right. They’d be okay. They’d figure this out.

“Yeah,” she said. “We will.”

“It’ll just take some time. We’re doing the best we can.” Clarke nodded again – Bellamy really had all the answers today.

“We’re doing the best we can,” she repeated.


	5. FINN COLLINS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soz not soz on all accounts

**FINN COLLINS**

 

Finn really _did_ like Clarke, to be fair. But he loved Raven, his girlfriend that was still up on the Ark, most likely dead. He’d thought about that, when Clarke told him the Ark was running out of oxygen – thought about the woman he’d known all of his life, so strong and beautiful, floating around in the station, dead. It hurt something inside his chest, made it pound and break, and he found his lips on Clarke’s – on this gorgeous woman with hair like the sun. She and Raven weren’t very much alike, so it was easy. It was easy to like this other woman; easy to kiss her and trace her skin with his fingertips; easy to follow her lead now they were on Earth, without thinking of Raven at all.

Then Clarke asked Monty to try and get in contact with the Ark, and it got him thinking. What if they were alive up there? What if the Ark would come down? What if he found himself liking Clarke more than Raven? What sort of person would he be then?

Finn chose to stop thinking about it eventually – he had bigger things on his mind.

It had been a week since they landed; a week since he’d seen the Sky Box, the cold grey metal of the Ark, and heard the Chancellor’s voice. Everyone blamed him for losing that oxygen – for wasting three months on an illegal spacewalk. Hell, _Finn_ hated Finn for it. He was just trying to give Raven a treat – trying to make her feel better when she wasn’t accepted for the team due to her heart murmur. If he knew it would have ended like that, he probably wouldn’t have suggested it.

Instead, he would have been there when Sinclair overrode the decision to not let Raven go on spacewalks; he would have been there to watch her work and spin in anti-gravity. Would have _been there_ instead of locked up, so foolish and so stupid; thinking he could actually give Raven her dreams without the cost.

It was some cruel kind of fate when she arrived for visitation hours and told him that she was going to get to spacewalk. The universe punished him for being reckless, but he didn’t stop being so – Finn wondered absently if he’d even learnt a lesson out of it all.

Then there was Earth.

Where Bellamy pulled the lever, opening the door, and immediately he could smell everything. He could smell the trees and the grass; the people around him and the air. It was great at first, and then it became overwhelming. Within a few hours of landing, Finn could smell the animals – he knew where they were, and helped hunt because of it.

A day later he was sure he could smell the bunkers; could smell the tin cans of preserved food, untouched dust, rusting metal. He followed the smells; followed the scents wherever they took him. When he smelled unfamiliar people – he turned around. Finn Collins did not want to get caught up in that.

And maybe his nose was wrong. It hadn’t been yet, but there _couldn’t_ be people down here. There couldn’t. They were all wiped out a hundred years before.

When Finn had followed Clarke and Bellamy into camp, after they got into that sealed bunker and found the guns, he was sure he could smell the dead body before they arrived. He could smell the burns; smell the blood. It was sickening, but he couldn’t stop it; couldn’t control it.

He could smell Clarke and Bellamy, too. Could smell the tension had gone; could smell that they shared some sort of secret, or partnership. Could smell _guilt_. He couldn’t figure out how, but he knew Murphy burned them; knew the hanging was still gnawing at their skin; leaving their own out to die was almost like pushing Charlotte off the cliff themselves.

Finn took time to sit and smell; to figure out what each conflicting scent meant. He sat at the campfire, looking at people and trying to focus on what he was being told. He could smell Miller – could smell the empty hole instead of him; could smell the worry whenever Clarke spoke of the Ark dying, could smell… the beanie that Miller always wore. It wasn’t his own, but instead belonged to someone else – he couldn’t pinpoint who.  He could smell Harper; the way killing a man felt on her hands, even though it had been a few days. Could smell Monroe’s jealousy over not having powers, could smell Octavia’s happiness about being free, happiness as she sat next to Atom, his hand slipped into hers.

It was all so confusing; how he could smell the emotions. How he just _knew_.

But it had been a week, and each passing day left him with stronger and stronger smells. He could smell blood and sex, love and hate, meat and dirt; the breeze, the sun, the night. They each had their own scents and he knew them without hesitation.

But then-

“You’re needed in the hunting team,” Clarke lied. She lied. Finn could _smell_ the lie; could smell the way it rolled off of her tongue, not even a second thought. Could smell the way she didn’t want him around; the way she wanted to talk to Bellamy, the way she was more focused on counting their supplies in the med bay than talking to Finn.

“They don’t need me today,” Finn replied easily, as if his mind wasn’t tumbling. He didn’t know he could smell people’s lies; didn’t know he could smell the way they were said so easily. “We’ve been doing pretty well the past week; I can hang out with you instead.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Clarke said. “I’ve got lots to do, anyway.” Another lie. Finn bit his tongue, staring at the back of her head; at the mane of golden hair. Clarke was so happy to lie to him – he thought they had _something_ at least.

Their kissing was… it was monumental – how could she just lie like that? He gritted his teeth, nodding tersely.

“Fine,” he replied. “I’ll go out with the hunting team.”

“Okay.” Her reply was absent-minded – she didn’t even care. Finn strode out of the Dropship; he hated this power, hated the side effect and the way it told him things he didn’t need to know. He could be useful, yes – he could hunt and track and find people from miles away, but he hated the way it told him too much.

He didn’t want to smell people’s lust; didn’t want to smell their sweat, or their blood. He could smell the bruises on people’s skin – the hickeys on their necks. It sent his mind reeling, and Finn tightened his fists, waiting by the gate to leave for the hunt.

Miller passed him a gun, and Finn took it with stiff hands. He could smell that beanie again – an unfamiliar scent from a person he’d never met before; or at least, had never met since he developed the side effect.

Harper, Monroe, Jasper and a few others came with them; traipsing out into the woods and looking at Finn pointedly as they waited for him to locate an animal. It was easy; he could smell the boar a long way off, and started in that direction, the others following behind.

“Where did you get that hat?” Finn asked, looking to Miller. They were at the front of the group; Miller in charge, Finn leading. Miller looked surprised to see Finn talking to him, but his face turned to passive soon after.

“My beanie?” Finn nodded. “Uh, it was my boyfriend’s,” he replied. Finn raised his eyebrows, smelling the truth. Nathan Miller had a boyfriend, and he knew what he smelt like; knew the smell of them both mingling together, and Finn hated that.

“What’s his name?” Finn asked anyway.

“Bryan,” Miller said. “He’s from Farm Station. We sat next to each other in class a lot, and I had a crush on him for almost a year before I ever worked up the nerve to talk to him.” It was information Finn didn’t need, but he could smell the nostalgia; the wistful scent of a man in love, thinking of better times.

“And that’s his hat?” Miller nodded.

“He gave it to me when I was in lock up,” he replied. “Thought I would be out soon anyway, so it wouldn’t matter, and I’d have something of his around. I guess we were wrong, huh?” Finn nodded. He hated the smell of young love.

They kept going; shooting the boar and then trudging through the woods when he smelled a family of rabbits.

“They’re over there,” Finn said, crouching as they got close. Over the ridge he could see the group of rabbits, and the others moved forwards to get the kill. He could smell the blood the second it was shed; could smell the fear of the rabbits; could smell the way they kicked up dirt when they darted away.

Then he could smell something else. Another person. It was unfamiliar, but it was definitely a human all the same. There was the smell of a gun; the smell of determination, the smell of plastic. It was a little way off, and Finn stood, searching for the direction.

“What is it?” Monroe asked, heading over to him as the others stuffed their kills into a bag.

“I smell something,” Finn replied.

“You always smell something,” she pointed out. Finn shrugged. Monroe’s scent was now mingling with that of the stranger; he was having trouble telling the two apart. Monroe smelled a lot like Harper; water from the river that they washed in, the tent that they slept it, faintly of Miller, their closest friend. It was taking over that of the human off in the distance.

“I can’t tell where it is,” he said, sighing and narrowing his eyes.

“Is it an animal?” Monroe asked. He shook his head.

“I think it’s a person.”

“Maybe it’s someone from camp,” she suggested.

“Or maybe not,” he replied. The two of them were silent as the rest of the hunting group came back, bag full and guns cocked.

“Onto the next target?” Miller suggested, and Finn nodded slowly. They started walking in the direction of the new smell, and he hoped that it wouldn’t turn out terribly. But of course it did – because Finn didn’t listen to his nose, and didn’t run away the second he smelt it.

The man had a gun; a radio; a suit that covered up all of his skin. They were just out of sight but Finn knew it smelt like the man Harper had brought back to camp – just not overpowered by death and burns and blood just yet.

“Mount Weather,” Finn whispered, ducking below a bush.

“What?” Miller asked. “That’s still a few hours away, according to the map.”

“I know,” Finn replied. “But it’s one of their men again. I can smell him.” He swallowed, looking to Harper.

“He’ll kill us if we don’t kill him,” she responded. “If he finds our camp-“

“He won’t,” Miller said firmly. “He won’t get that far. Is it just the one?” This was to Finn, who nodded.

“I think so – I can’t tell, there’s a lot of conflicting smells.” The group around him, the trees, the breeze not going in their direction, the dead animals. Too many things blocking his senses.

The man got closer; closer, until he stopped. There was a voice; they all heard it.

“This is Gregg Johnson, requesting back up at my location,” he said into the microphone.

“He’s found us,” Miller whispered. The group nodded. “He won’t find our camp.” A few of the delinquents stood, then, shooting their guns at the Mountain Man. Lots of things happened; lots of movements as some ducked out of sight. Finn pressed himself up against a tree, smelling the fear of the stranger and his friends.

Monroe skidded behind another bush, narrowly missing being shot, and Harper stretched out her hand, controlling the gun and making it fly away from the man. But then there were more; more men with guns, with red smoke that Harper made disappear. It smelled like poison; like sleep and death. He watched as Miller missed being hit by a bullet by jumping in the air; he stayed floating, then flew up to a tree branch and perched there as Finn’s eyes widened.

He hefted his gun, ducking around the tree and shooting at the Mountain Men, but there were a lot of them. Too little of the delinquents.

Gunfire rained and Finn could only smell blood. One girl that was with them; Roma, she moved and disappeared into thin air, as another had to hide behind a tree. He could smell the monsters; could smell the death and destruction on their fingers. Monsters against monsters, Finn thought. Mountain Men against criminals.

He could smell everything, and he could smell nothing.

All he knew was that after the Mountain Men fell back and retreated; the rest dead on the ground, the delinquents regrouped, and there was a missing scent.

“Where’s Jasper?” Finn asked, and the others looked around. Finn turned, focusing on the scent of laughter and irony; of Monty and guns; of googles and old clothes. He was off in the distance, getting further and further away, his scent mingling with that of a Mountain Man.

-

They ran back to camp. It was clear that they wouldn’t be able to get Jasper back on their own – they wouldn’t be able to fight off more of those men. Sterling had been shot in the shoulder, and Monroe kept checking back for him as they ran.

When they got there, the gates were opened immediately.

“Bellamy!” Miller yelled, running straight through camp. “Clarke! Get out here!” Bellamy was first out, as Finn leant over, huffing and leaning on his knees. God, he wasn’t made for running.

“What happened?” Bellamy asked.

“Sterling’s been shot, and Jasper’s been kidnapped,” Miller replied, Monroe hustling Sterling past and into the med bay. Clarke glanced back at them, eyeing Miller warily.

“Kidnapped?” He nodded.

“By the Mountain Men.”

“They’re back?” Bellamy asked. “Why were you near them?”

“He attacked us – called for backup,” Miller replied with a shrug.

“No,” Bellamy seethed, looking past Miller now. The camp had gone silent, and Finn straightened with the rest of the group as their leader came storming over. “ _Why didn’t you smell him?_ ” It came out as a hiss; as a spitting of fire. This was Finn’s fault. He had led them directly to the killers instead of turning around and running back to camp. He was to blame for them stealing Jasper.

“I did, but I didn’t know what it was,” Finn stammered in response. His skin felt like it was burning as Bellamy glared.

“So you went _towards_ the unfamiliar smell?” he shouted. Finn winced as Clarke came forward, placing her hand on Bellamy’s arm and tugging him back. Bellamy immediately shook her off, and Finn caught the brief look of surprise on Clarke’s face.

“It’s happened,” she said anyway. “We can’t change that. Now we decide what we have to do now.”

“We go and find him, obviously,” Bellamy told her. “There’s no other option.”

“These men are heavily armed,” Clarke replied. “They’re also a few _hours_ away, and have no qualms about attacking our people.” Bellamy opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off. “They _took_ Jasper – what sort of people are we to march more of who they want right into their arms?”

There was a beat of silence, before Bellamy spoke, low and solid.

“We are survivors, Clarke,” he told her. “We are a family. We do not leave anyone behind.”

“Like you left Murphy?” Mbege asked, from the crowd, stepping forward. There was a murmur of agreement. “You left him out there to die.”

“He wanted to kill Charlotte,” Bellamy replied.

“Charlotte _killed herself_ ,” Mbege called back. “Face it – we’re no family. We’re here to die and that’s what we’re doing.” Again, a wave of whispers flowed through the delinquents and Finn swallowed. Bellamy’s face was passive for a moment, before he went over to Mbege.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said, placing his hand on Mbege’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we banished Murphy – but we did what we had to do.” There was a beat, and then Mbege nodded. “And right now, we’re going to save Jasper; we’re going to find Mount Weather, and we’re going to get our friend back.”

Silence. Then, “alright.” Mbege nodded, and Bellamy’s hand slipped from his shoulder. He turned, heading back towards the gate.

“Finn, you got us into this mess – you’re taking us to Jasper.” Finn swallowed, nodding. He had to fix this – had to make right what he did wrong. “Clarke, are you coming?” She paused, staring at him for a moment, before nodding. “Good. We need to get Sterling patched up, Octavia-“

“On it,” Octavia called back, heading through the crowd. She disappeared into the Dropship, and a moment later, Monroe re-emerged. Bellamy checked the ammo in his gun and nodded.

“Alright, then. We’ll be back after dark. Move out.”

-

It took a long time; multiple hours of walking through the woods and everyone else talking apart from Finn. He tried contributing to discussions, but no one paid any attention to him. It was like he was a pariah over this one mistake – was this how Murphy felt? Murphy just wanted justice, Finn knew, and because of that he was left to die out on his own. Finn couldn’t smell him, so he wasn’t dead in a ditch within the mile – but he could be anywhere.

Finn could smell the people he was with, though. He could smell Clarke’s cautiousness; mostly aimed towards him. Bellamy smelled like authority; and the way he and Miller talked smelt like the beginnings of friendship. Monroe and Harper walked side by side, their scents already so similar.

Finn couldn’t smell himself. That was the one thing he couldn’t do. He didn’t know what he smelt like – probably of rejection and guilt, if he had to chance a guess. He couldn’t smell his own lies, or indignation. He couldn’t smell his fear, or his hope. Couldn’t smell the way he betrayed Raven for Clarke.

He wouldn’t want to smell that, anyway.

Eventually, they reached the Mountain.

Or, they got close. Clarke had pointed it out, and they were nearby – another ten minutes of hiking, maybe. It stood tall and firm; a few satellites coming out of the top, and some of the door was visible. They stopped for a moment for a breather, and Bellamy moved to his side.

“Can you smell him?” he asked, not even looking to Finn. He nodded anyway.

“He’s in there,” Finn promised. “I can’t smell any emotions – maybe he’s asleep.”

“Not dead?” Bellamy questioned. Finn shook his head.

“There’s a distinct smell for that,” he replied.

Bellamy moved away again after that, to talk to Clarke like always. If Finn could have smelled his own emotions, he could have smelled the jealousy. Why did that man – the man who impersonated a guard; who had already slept with multiple girls at camp, and who took leadership for himself the second they hit the ground – why did he get Clarke, too? Where was the fairness in that?

Finn looked back to the group, to the way Miller passed his canteen over to Harper as they spoke.

“Do you think the Ark is actually going to come down?” Monroe was asking – Finn could be having those conversations with them, but no, he led them towards the unfamiliar smell.

“I hope so,” Miller replied.

“Really?” Monroe raised an eyebrow. “They’ll take over. It was a terrible society and ruling up there, it’ll be the same the second they hit the ground.” Miller shrugged as Harper passed his water back.

“I don’t care – I’ll run away. But at least Bryan would be here with me. We’ll live in the woods forever.” Harper grinned, laughing.

“Can we join you?” she asked. “If the Ark’s coming, I’d prefer not to go back to being a criminal again.”

“Yeah,” Monroe agreed. “A little cabin in the woods sounds nice. We could build it ourselves-“

“It could be by a lake,” Miller nodded “I’ve always liked the idea of lakes.”

Harper grinned, continuing, “and we could have fires and read the books from the bunkers.”

“Bryan’s from Farm Station, right?” Monroe asked, and Miller agreed. “Well he could totally farm here on the ground, and we wouldn’t go without food.”

The three of them smiled at each other, and Finn huffed. One of them had been kidnapped and they were thinking about running away.

“Alright,” Bellamy announced. “Let’s go.”

That’s when it happened. There was a sound; like a horn – long and loud, and the group froze, looking around. After first there was nothing, and then birds began to swoop past them in large flocks, flying away from the mountain. Animals and bugs followed, and soon it was a race to escape the area around Mount Weather.

“What’s happening?” Monroe asked, the group trying to find what they were running from. The horn sounded again, and again – and then it was there. Yellow fog, rolling towards them. Finn could smell the sulphur; the poison. He watched a bird get caught in it before it dropped to the ground, dead.

“Run!” Finn yelled, and they did. They sprinted away from the fog; legs pumping, hearts racing, looking for cover.

“Over there! Bellamy called, pointing towards a cave. “Come on!” It was hard to go through, hard to run and to not trip over the animals, the roots and bushes. Finn stumbled, righting himself and continuing along behind the group. Harper’s hand was enclosed around Monroe’s pulling each other through, up ahead.

They ducked into the cave, pushing themselves away from the entrance, and watched the fog pass them at the mouth of the cave.

Breathing heavily, they collapsed onto the ground.

“Is everyone alright?” Bellamy asked. The reply was a series of grunts.

“What the hell is that?” Clarke asked, looking to the yellow at the opening of the cave.

“We call it acid fog,” a voice said, and the group jumped. Finn scrambled back with the others – trying to not get too close to the fog, but get away from the stranger at the same time. Finn hadn’t even smelt them over that of the fog and adrenaline.

“Who are you?” Bellamy questioned, lifting his gun.

“Lincoln,” the man replied, arms raised in surrender. “This is Nyko and Indra.” Lincoln gestured to the others, standing behind him: a man with a tattooed face and long beard, and a dark-skinned woman with a sharp blade in her hand. “We’re peaceful.”

The delinquents were frozen, guns raised, but Finn could smell the honesty.

“They’re telling the truth,” he said, shuffling back to where he was sitting previously.

“What, you can smell the truth now?” Clarke asked, sending him a pointed look.

“Yes, Miss _I’m-So-Busy_ ,” Finn replied bitterly. Clarke paused before frowning.

“Fine,” she said, lowering her gun. Clarke sat back down, and the others followed suit, including the strangers. “Are you with the Mountain Men?” Clarke asked.

Indra snorted, as Nyko moved to light a fire.

“We would never be associated with those monsters,” she replied. “We’re are part of Trikru – a peaceful group of the Grounders who live in the forest.”

“How many more of you are there?” Bellamy asked.

“Thousands,” Indra said. “But we’re no match for the Mountain.”

“Why not?” Indra looked over to Miller now, who was rubbing the back of his head over his beanie.

“Because of the fog,” she replied, pointing to the entrance of the cave. Nyko blew into the small flames he’d started, and Finn watched the fire flicker and dance.

“We can’t destroy an enemy we can’t reach,” Lincoln explained.

“Why are they an enemy?” Harper asked. “I mean, I know they’re dicks – they stole our friend. Why do _you_ think they’re dicks?” Finn caught the slight smile on the Grounders’ faces.

“They steal our friends, too,” Nyko replied. “They steal them and drain them of their blood.”

“Why?”

“Because they want what they don’t have,” Indra said calmly. “They can’t face the air, we can. Our blood could help them do that.”

“How do you know?” Monroe asked, as if they were making it up – but Finn could smell the honesty. They had no reason to lie.

“Anya once escaped,” Indra responded. “She is one of our leaders, and she escaped their wrath.”

Finn looked to Bellamy and Clarke, sitting side by side. He bit his tongue briefly before speaking.

“Think of their radiation,” he said. “They’re just affected by nuclear – we have solar, too.”

“It’s probably what causes the side effects,” Clarke replied. “Why?”

“Consider the Mountain Men so desperately wanting the blood of these Grounders – what do you think they’ll do when they find out about _our blood?_ ” There was silence for a beat; just the faint sound of the acid fog blowing through the breeze.

“Do you think they’d kill us to get our powers?” Clarke wondered aloud, turning to Bellamy. Finn watched him swallow, before nodding.

“I think the Mountain Men would kill us to get our powers.”


	6. BELLAMY BLAKE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this a shorter chapter? Probably. Idk. You learn things about Bellamy at last. And update period has been long because I didn't want to update until I'd finished writing a later chapter. I haven't finished it in the slightest, but what the hell.

**BELLAMY BLAKE**

 

The Mountain Men would definitely kill them to get their powers. That’s all Bellamy could think about as they waited for the fog to pass. When it did, they wandered back out into the open air, breathing it in as if for the first time. He hefted his gun, looking to the Grounders – they didn’t seem bad; they hadn’t fought the delinquents, and instead shared rations of food as they watched the yellow smog dance across the opening of the cave.

“Your people have powers,” Indra said, as they moved to say goodbye. Bellamy nodded, glancing over to Lincoln who shook Clarke’s hand – they had gotten along well in the cave. “You could defeat the Mountain.”

“Maybe,” Bellamy replied. “If we had time to learn how to use them – if we knew enough about the Mountain.”

“If they don’t take too many of us before that happens,” Clarke added. Indra glanced between the two of them before nodding.

“I’ll talk to the Commander,” she decided. “If we wish to form an alliance – to take down the Mountain once and for all – we will come to you.” Bellamy nodded once.

“Thank you,” he said, and the delinquents watched as the Grounders turned and left, trudging through the woods. “Spacewalker,” Bellamy said, looking to Finn, who had been standing behind them, “lead us home.”

-

The first person to greet them at the gate was Octavia – rushing out and barrelling into his arms. Bellamy automatically stiffened, clamping his lips together before relaxing into the hug with his sister.

“We saw the fog,” she said, pulling away. The group moved inside the walls as she spoke, and Bellamy made sure to be just far enough away that she couldn’t touch him – he couldn’t do that to his own sister. “It was poisonous – it made Nancy’s skin bubble and-“ she looked tormented as she rambled; afraid and nervous, and Bellamy paused, watching as she rushed to explain.

“O,” he started. “What happened to Nancy?” She hesitated before meeting his eye.

“I think she’s dead.” There was a collective breath before Clarke spoke.

“Where?”

“Med bay,” Octavia replied, and Clarke was off running towards the Dropship.

“Is everyone else okay?” Bellamy asked, looking around the camp. The delinquents were trying to build meat huts; places to preserve their food and keep them alive. There were ideas in the air about building cabins, rather than tents – but they weren’t the priority just yet.

“Yeah,” his sister nodded. “Everyone else is fine – she was just out of the gates further than anyone else.”

The next person to meet them was Monty; climbing out of his tent and spotting them by the gate, guns in their hands but no Jasper. He came running over, stopping to stare at his friends – at Miller, Harper and Monroe, who just frowned back.

“You didn’t find him?” Monty asked, and Bellamy watched his heart shatter; the expression cracked across his face and Bellamy swallowed.

“We got close,” Monroe replied, her voice softer than Bellamy had heard from the brash girl.

“We got to the Mountain,” Harper agreed. “But then the acid fog came out of it and we had to leave.”

“The acid fog comes from the Mountain?” Monty asked, looking across the group. “The same place Jasper’s been taken to?” Bellamy glanced around them – could he really help here? Could he do any good?

The others kept talking as Bellamy slunk away, heading through camp with Octavia quick on his heels.

“We’re going to get him back right? We’re going to get Jasper back?”

“We’re going to try,” he promised, huffing, but not looking to her.

“And what about the fog? What do we do about that?” Octavia questioned.

“We avoid it,” Bellamy responded. He felt Octavia’s hand on his arm, turning him around and his jaw locked in place as he looked at her. His younger sister studied his face for a moment; he watched her eyes scan every crevice of him. She never used to be like that – she used to trust him no matter what; she used to believe every word that came out of his mouth because he was her brother; because he would never hurt her.

He still wouldn’t – at least, not intentionally. But, it was becoming harder when all he wanted to do was hold his sister; it was harder when that was something that could endanger her.

She still wouldn’t let go of his arm, so he shrugged out her grip, taking a step back.

“What is wrong with you?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. There was no heat to it; no rage or anger, just curiosity – just pain. He swallowed.

“Nothing,” he lied. Bellamy was never a good liar when it came to her, and she shook her head slowly.

“Why can’t I touch you?” she asked. “That’s – that’s what this is right? You haven’t let me touch you in three days; you get all tense when I hug you… what’s going on, Bell?”

He hated that she could pick up on it so well; hated that she knew him like the back of her own hand. He shook his head again. Bellamy could just keep lying; it was all he could do. He couldn’t hold his own _sister_ anymore.

“It’s nothing, O,” he told her. Octavia’s jaw tensed and she stood closer – Bellamy took a step back without even realising it. He watched her mouth open and close like she couldn’t form the words; her lip trembled a little as she shook her head; long brown hair swaying with the motion.

“Bell,” she pleaded, her voice small and afraid. It reminded him too much of the Ark – of the hole under the floorboard and he swallowed tightly.

“O, please don’t,” he replied. “Please don’t do this right now – I can’t explain.”

“Of course you can,” she said. “You can tell me what’s wrong – is it a side effect of the radiation? There’s lots of different types – I’m sure it’ll be manageable. Bell, let me help you figure this out.” Octavia stared at him with such raw intensity that he was close to giving in – but he couldn’t, he couldn’t deal with that. It was better for him to figure it out on his own; better to learn how to turn it off, so he wouldn’t hurt her by accident; so she would never know if he accidentally used it.

Luckily, just as he opened his mouth – probably to give in and tell her everything – Clarke interrupted.

“We need to bury Nancy,” she stated, butting into the conversation. Clarke looked between Octavia and Bellamy; the silent stare down, and opened her mouth, most likely to ask if she was interrupting. Bellamy nodded.

“Of course,” he replied, finally looking to her. “Take off her shoes and jacket, and we’ll get someone to dig her grave.”

“I don’t know her well enough to know who she was friends with,” Clarke said.

“Dax, I think,” Octavia said, her expression neutral now. “I’ll go and ask him if he wants to help.” She sent one last look to Bellamy before turning and stalking off. Bellamy turned to Clarke.

“I interrupted something, right?” she asked, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. Bellamy nodded slowly.

“Something like that,” he agreed. “It’s fine – no doubt we’ll pick it up later again.” He sighed, following her back into the Dropship to help cover up Nancy’s body.

-

A few days passed and Bellamy continued to avoid touching anyone. He never realised before he couldn’t do it, how often he would place his hand on someone’s shoulder, or tap them on the back. He never realised how often he hugged Octavia; how frequently he would sling his arm across her shoulders and tug her into his side as he walked. Now he couldn’t do it anymore, he missed it more than ever.

He thought about that as he watched Octavia through the fire. She was giving him some form of silent treatment – where he didn’t tell her what was going on, and in return she didn’t go near him. It was suffocating, being blocked out by your own sibling, but he assumed that was what she was feeling too – so they were suffering together, at least.

“They’re cute together,” Clarke commented, nodding to his sister and Atom. He guessed she thought that was why he was watching them; some protective big brother urges. It was true enough – he was a little wary of Atom; cautious of anyone who thought they could just smile and flirt with Octavia and think Bellamy wouldn’t mind. _Of course_ he minded – she was his little sister.

But, he had to give credit where it was due. Octavia looked happy; Atom’s hand slipped into hers as they spoke lowly to one another in the fire light. She looked happier than he’d seen her in years – since she was little and climbed on his back as he pretended to be a horse taking her through forests; since the year before when she was dancing at the masquerade dance and she looked so delighted, so free; since she stepped foot on Earth and started something new.

Atom was part of that, Bellamy figured. He was part of this new life she was forming; where she could be free and go outside; meet people and have friends. Maybe that new life came with dangers of powers and Mountain Men, but it was a life where she didn’t have to hide in a crawl space.

“They are,” Bellamy agreed, dragging his eyes from his sister to Clarke. “I’m surprised he kept going after her.”

“What, after you strung him up on a tree that first night?” she asked, rolling her eyes. Not too many people were there for that – for Bellamy, Murphy and Mbege showing Atom what would happen if he hurt Octavia. Of course Clarke would have seen though – she knew everything that was going on in their camp.

“Yeah, I suppose. But she can be tough sometimes; she can be a bit abrasive.” He was smiling though; because she was also strong and powerful. She was guarded and defended her heart with steel bars – but she had learned to love carefully for all of a second before throwing herself in, she had taught herself to know her own worth. It made him think he’d done something right, when it came to raising her.

“I wish I had a sibling,” Clarke sighed. Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Wells was almost like a brother, I guess. But it’s not the same as the real thing. Then again, I wouldn’t want to hide their existence from everyone.” Bellamy nodded slowly. “I suppose if I’d have had a sibling, my mother would have turned herself in – or maybe just the baby.”

“Really?” Bellamy looked at her properly; as she thought deeply about this hypothetical world.

“If she could turn in her own husband for something he hadn’t even done yet, I’m sure she could betray her child…” Bellamy wanted to reach out for her; wanted to rub his hand across her back in soothing circles. He’d let himself do it before; let himself tell her that it would be okay – because him saying it was maybe the only way she’d believe it. But he couldn’t do it now – he couldn’t mess with her thoughts of other people, with her feelings and insecurities.

Bellamy wasn’t that person.

So he just nodded with a sigh. “Maybe Wells wasn’t a biological sibling, but he was your brother anyway.” Clarke nodded, the edges of her lips tilting upwards. Bellamy scanned the group, noting Monty at the end of his friends, wrapped up in an orange safety blanket and staring into the flames. “I suppose O and I weren’t the only siblings,” he mused, his eyes remaining fixed on Monty.

“Yeah?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah, you and Wells, Monty and Jasper – they’re brothers, you know?” There was a beat of silence before she spoke.

“Go and talk to him,” Clarke said. Bellamy tore his gaze from Monty, and planted it on Clarke, who was already watching him.

“What?”

“You want to go and talk to him, right?” she asked. Bellamy hesitated before nodding – that was exactly what he’d been thinking. “Then go, I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure mind reading isn’t one of your powers?” he asked, his lips turning up in a smirk. Clarke let out a surprised bark of laughter as she shook her head.

“I’m afraid it’s just walking through walls for me,” she replied. “I’m sure there’s a mind reader among us though.”

“God help us,” Bellamy drawled as he stood up. Clarke sent him a smile; one he hadn’t seen before – all bright and toothy. She was usually more reserved and Bellamy’s chest warmed a little at the thought of Clarke letting down her barriers for him.

As much as he wanted to stick around a little longer – find out what that meant for them; what level of friendship that unlocked – he had to go talk to Monty.

Monty didn’t even look up when Bellamy sat down next to him – his eyes didn’t flicker or notice his presence. Bellamy coughed and Monty sighed.

“Jasper has these fire powers,” Monty said, starting the conversation. Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “That’s why his temperature was up so high all the time. I only saw it once before Jasper left – he tried conjuring a flame, it worked, it got really big and I made him stop.” Bellamy sat in silence. He’d learned a long time ago that if you stayed silent, the other person was more likely to talk. “I have these water powers,” Monty continued. “I figured it out just after Jasper. You’d think it would be ice, with how cold I am, but it’s just water – maybe I’m cold because he’s hot. It’s funny, you know? We have these opposing powers, but they match. We’re a team.”

Bellamy nodded.

“We’ll find him,” Bellamy promised.

“I know,” Monty replied. “He’s still out there. I know it. It’s like this feeling in my gut – like I can just _tell_ that he’s out there.”

Bellamy watched Monty’s pain cover his face, and he swallowed. He hesitated, but placed his hand on Monty’s back, rubbing slow circles through the blanket.

“We’ll find him,” Bellamy repeated, and Monty nodded. “We’ll get him back.”


	7. RAVEN REYES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a longer chapter at 4.6k - but it's also one of my favourites so w/e.  
> I'm leaving in like, four days for university, and I have no idea how frequent uploading will be when I get there - as if it's been frequent at all so far in this fic.  
> I do have only one more chapter to write though, and we're about half way through the fic now!  
> Also, we get to meet Bryan in this chapter. WHICH IS GREAT BECAUSE HE'S MY FAVE.

**RAVEN REYES**

 

The lights were flashing, over and over and over. Raven hurried to pull on her suit, the one she wore outside the Ark on spacewalks. The radio – one Abby had given her; stolen for her to use – was blaring the message to find her. To find Raven and the pod.

The door slid open, and Bryan came running in. Raven pointed to the other suit, and he nodded, climbing into it.

“They’re coming,” he heaved, chest rising and falling rapidly. She nodded, rushed, and went back to fixing the final dials for the descent. “Abby said to go without her.” Raven hesitated, swallowing, but pushed forward anyway.

“Wasn’t enough room for three, anyway,” Raven muttered, jogging over to the door and breaking the lock on it – it would buy them more time. There _was_ enough room for three in the pod, if they crushed together. Bryan knew it, too – but they didn’t mention it. Didn’t mention about how Abby wouldn’t get to see the ground, nor her daughter.

There were only a few more days of oxygen left – a week at most – and the council had made the decision not to go to Earth, due to the vitals of the delinquents. Most had died – or, well, they’d taken their wrist bands off, maybe. The ones that were still working showed elevated heart rates, radiation poisoning and a signs that showed they would soon be dead.

Raven didn’t care – she was going to Earth. She was going to reach Finn. And Bryan-

Bryan had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. He’d overheard the conversation between two council members about sending the Ark down; he’d been on a walk between shifts in Farm Station and discovered the room where Raven had built the pod; his boyfriend was down there and he found the only way to get to him.

Raven liked him well enough – he and his boyfriend were both pretty good thieves, and just like Finn did for Raven, Nate took the fall. Bryan was good at stealing the equipment she needed from his station, and he told bad jokes when he was stressed or worried.

He was also very fast at pulling on the space suit; having practised at Raven’s request.

They ran and climbed into the pod, sealing the doors and starting the manoeuvre to eject from the space station. Bryan pressed what she asked him to, and suddenly, the red blaring lights, the radio screaming for them to be found – it was all in the distance.

They were floating in space, tumbling about.

She could hear Bryan’s heavy breathing – or maybe that was her own, she couldn’t tell.

For a second, it was peaceful, quiet.

“We’re going to Earth,” Bryan whispered, because it was real now – there was no way of returning to the Ark. It was Earth or floating forever in space.

“We’re going to Earth,” Raven confirmed, and reached her hand forward. She eyed the bird necklace, already wrapped around the lever; the one Finn had made for her, and she loved with all of her being. She pulled the lever and the boosters started up, sending them hurtling towards Earth.

-

“Raven.”

Around her, the world was dark, but she could hear a heart thumping, rhythmically, erratically. It wasn’t her own – she knew that much. There was fear, in there. Worry. Fondness.

“Raven, come on.”

She felt her body being shaken, felt the exasperation in the voice. She knew that voice – Bryan. Bryan was here, next to her. Bryan survived the fall.

“You gotta wake up, now. There’s no use sleeping when we could still die.”

There was a feeling of light, in the darkness; within the fear and worry. Happiness. That’s what it was. Happiness; joy that he’s on Earth, seeing the colours and the leaves, the grass, the sky. Raven wanted to see it, too.

Her eyes fluttered open, a groan leaving her mouth as she looked around. Her helmet was broken; the glass shattered, and her skin felt damp with blood. But there it was; the world. She stared out of the front window, out at the green, the brown, the _colour_. They had landed at a small clearing in the forest; and light was everywhere.

It was beautiful and Raven was on Earth.

She grinned, turning to face Bryan, his helmet off and forgotten, and sitting back now with relief that she was awake.

“We’re here,” she laughed, unbuckling herself.

“We made it. And we should be near the Dropship, right?” Raven nodded.

“Yeah, I used the same co-ordinates. Apparently theirs got knocked off course, so I used the actual landing zone.”

“Thank God for Abby,” Bryan breathed, sitting back in his seat for a moment longer. Abby had really been the hero, and Raven felt a rush of warmth for the woman who’d gotten them this far. Raven loved Abby, and she’d heard a lot about her daughter, Clarke.

If Clarke was anything like Abby, then Raven was sure to love her.

Slowly, Raven stepped out of the pod, looking around at the world. At her feet, the ground was covered in leaves, some red, orange, brown, while others fresh and green. The sky was dappled with white, puffy clouds, and it was as blue as she had imagined it. Bryan joined her, by her side, and they laughed, looking about at this place they would call their home.

“ _Fuck_ , Bryan,” Raven grinned. She could hear his joy; sense it in a way she didn’t understand. But she didn’t focus on it, didn’t care, because she was feeling it too, and it made so much sense.

He turned to look at her, and his smile faded for a second.

“The radio,” he said. Raven clicked into his thoughts – could they contact Abby? She raced for the pod, looking inside and finding the pod’s inbuilt radio broken, pieces scattered across the floor.

“It’s busted,” she called back. “We’re not using this any time soon.”

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Bryan asked after a beat.

“To Earth, or generally?” she responded, pulling the necklace from the lever, and slipping out of the space suit, like Bryan had.

“Generally,” Bryan replied. They both knew they weren’t making it to Earth.

“No,” Raven huffed, joining him once more in the clearing. “I think that by this time next week they’ll be dead, and we’ll be the oldest people on this planet.” He smirked.

“Except for that Blake guy,” he commented. “The one Abby said stowed away on the ship.” Raven shrugged.

“Okay, apart from him. I’ll be second oldest, you’ll be third. What does it matter?” Bryan sighed and shrugged, turning around in the clearing again.

“Alright, which way do we go?” He was right, they couldn’t just sit here and hope to be found. Raven pursed her lips – she actually had no idea, and told him as much. “Let’s just wander then,” Bryan decided. “We’ve got no better chances.”

So they did, they chose a direction and they began to walk that way, looking out for people, for signs of life. They came across animals, found footprints they couldn’t determine, and just kept walking, hoping for the best.

Raven could hear Bryan’s hope, and it matched her own.

Luckily, the universe happened to be looking out for them that day, because they could hear the camp before they saw it. There were screams of laughter, yelling, banging. Raven looked to Bryan, and grinned, both taking off in a sprint towards the sound.

Then they could see it – makeshift walls, a looming metal monstrosity of the Dropship, and _people_. Delinquents. The one hundred.

Someone noticed them up on the wall; someone saw them coming and frowned, staring at them. The gate was wide open though; Raven and Bryan slowed to a walk as they reached the wall, reached the delinquents who had stopped to look at them. They _knew_ they weren’t with them for the past two weeks.

Slowly, they stepped into the camp, and looked around. There were wooden buildings spotted about – a smoking hut, and one in construction. Tents were littered everywhere, and there was a campfire in the middle of the clearing. At the end was the Dropship, and the hundred delinquents wandered about the space, organising food, talking, building. They’d created a community in two weeks and Raven found it hard to breathe.

Then, she felt herself become overwhelmed with love – which didn’t make sense. She couldn’t tell what she was looking at for that to be possible.

“Nate!” Bryan said next to her. “Nate!” She spun around, watching the grin light up Bryan’s face in a way she hadn’t seen before. People quietened properly now, and she looked to the boy, dark skin and a beanie on his head, look around.

“Bryan?” the boy – Nate – asked, disbelief evident on his face. “Is that you?” Bryan nodded, rushing into Nate’s arms, embracing so tightly that she could feel the squeeze on her ribs. She could feel it all; she knew exactly what they were feeling, and she smiled, watching them. Bryan only pulled away so he could press his lips against Nate’s, and Raven could almost feel it all; the joy, the wonder, the love. Absently, she realised she’d never felt it like that – but Raven didn’t focus on those thoughts, just on the ones that told her that right in front of her, was a couple meant to last a lifetime.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nate asked, pulling away to look at Bryan more carefully. His hands cupped at Bryan’s face, as if trying to judge if it was him or someone in disguise; Nate’s fingers brushed along the tips of Bryan’s hair, and Bryan’s hands, in return, pulled him closer by the waist. “How did you get here?” Raven headed over to them as Bryan glanced back.

“Raven built a pod to get us to Earth,” he replied.

“Are you the only ones?” This came from a girl with three orange braids, watching with a smile.

“Yeah,” Bryan replied. “We’re the only ones.”

“We should find Clarke and Bellamy,” another girl commented.

“Wait,” Raven said. “Is Finn still alive?” They looked between themselves before nodding. “Can you take me to him?”

-

She didn’t get it. Raven just didn’t get it.

She didn’t get how she felt Finn’s happiness as if it were her own, but then immediately after felt his guilt. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was; why he was guilty, and why it related to her, but it was there, clear as day, and she could somehow _feel_ it.

Then, Bryan was back, his hand linked with Nate’s - or, Miller’s, as she found out he preferred to be called. He was with a tall, handsome man who she recognised as Blake (Bellamy Blake, he introduced), who was the stowaway Abby had told them about, and a shorter blonde girl.

The moment she saw the girl, she felt Finn’s feelings again; felt his guilt grow stronger, and she linked the two together, frowning up at him. Raven couldn’t say _how_ she knew, other than that she felt it, but she was about to open her mouth to ask why Finn’s heart was so obviously screaming for this girl, when she introduced herself.

“Clarke Griffin,” she greeted with a smile. Raven’s eyes widened, looking back to her now, and glancing at Bryan – nodding with confirmation.

“You’re Abby’s daughter,” Raven stated, and Clarke nodded. “She’s the reason we got to Earth.”

“Yeah, Bryan said,” Clarke replied. “He said you built the pod to get down here?” Raven nodded, but it was a daze. She could _feel_ things that weren’t hers to feel. She could feel something in Clarke; in the way her eyes darted to how Finn held Raven. She could feel a form of jealousy, of confusion. She could feel Bryan’s happiness – a constant – and the same from Miller. Bellamy was a little harder to read, but she knew he was impressed; with them, she thought. “So you would be able to get into contact with the Ark?”

“My radio’s shot,” Raven replied. “There’s no chance of that.”

“You built the pod,” Clarke said, frowning. “Surely you could fix a radio?”

“You haven’t seen the radio,” she deadpanned. “Besides, they’ll all be dead within a few days. There’s no saving them.”

There was silence, and she knew the despair. Raven may have felt detached from it, forcing a wall between her and the emotions regarding the people left on the Ark, but she knew they didn’t. Bryan was used to it; Bryan had felt these feelings a hundred times – but Miller was openly upset, same as Bellamy, Clarke and Finn.

“There’s no _trying?_ ” Bellamy asked. Raven’s jaw worked for a moment.

“They have a week’s worth of oxygen left,” Raven replied. “Since you left, a breach opened down in Factory. They’ve culled three hundred volunteers, but the oxygen leaks out faster than we need to use it. The only Exodus ship they have left would take months to repair properly – it’s a death trap. No one could make it to Earth in that thing and survive.”

The group was silent for a second, and Raven felt bad about being so blunt with it all. She didn’t think she would but – here it was. She could feel their pain and she wanted it to stop.

“They’re not making it down here, Clarke,” Raven said quietly now, ducking her head. Finn’s hand was warm on the small of her back. “I’m sorry. Abby said to tell you that she loves you.”

It was a lie, and Bryan met her eyes for a brief second before looking away. Finn’s body tensed for a moment, like he could sense it, but Clarke nodded, her emotions shifting in a slightly different way. Slightly happier, maybe, but still broken and confused.

“Alright,” Clarke replied at last. “We should find them places to sleep, that should be on the agenda.”

“Bryan can stay in my tent,” Miller said. “Monroe and Harper won’t mind.” Clarke nodded, looking to Raven.

“Raven’ll stay with me,” Finn added. Raven felt something like a twinge in Clarke’s chest – but it was still confused, like she didn’t want to be feeling it; like she hadn’t meant to. But she nodded anyway, looking to Bellamy.

“We shouldn’t tell them that the Ark is definitely dead,” Clarke said quietly. “Not until they’re gone. There’s no way to contact them, so… we shouldn’t start another riot.” Raven raised her eyebrows, but Bellamy nodded, following her away from the group.

-

Finn shared his tent with a guy named Monty, and another called Jasper – who wasn’t around, and apparently kidnapped by the people they called the ‘Mountain Men’.

Alone in the tent, Raven pressed her lips hard against Finn’s, trying to force his thoughts to be solely on her. She couldn’t explain it; couldn’t fully comprehend how she knew his heart was partly with Clarke, but the feeling was there, in her bones. Finn responded, hungry, and she found herself on her back, Finn leaning over her, tongue searching and perfect with hers.

He pulled away only to trail kisses down her jaw, across her neck, before sucking on her pulse point. She groaned, happy to have this again. It had been too long.

“Finn,” she murmured, smiling. He hummed into her neck, gently biting on the skin. After a moment longer, he pulled up to look at her.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, hand gently cupping her face and thumb stroking at her cheek.

“I thought you were dead,” she replied. “Your wristband said so.” It was strange, she felt, that even though Raven was sure they’d all been taking their wristbands off, she was still worried about Finn being dead anyway.

“I took it off a few days ago,” Finn said. “Monty was trying to use them to get into contact with the Ark. I’m alright.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He pressed a sound kiss to her lips before studying her. “Weird things have been happening, Rae – there are _people_ here.”

“The Mountain Men,” Raven nodded.

“More than them – Trikru, Grounders,” he said. “They’re peaceful, they helped us. But, what if everything we know about the ground is wrong?”

“We don’t know all that much,” Raven shrugged, trying not to hear the hammering of his heart.

“People have been… _feeling_ things, since they landed,” he continued. “They’re side effects of the radiation – different people have different… _powers_.”

Raven was smart. Raven was _beyond_ smart – she was a genius. She was the youngest zero-g mechanic in fifty years. If given more time, she was definite she could have fixed the breach in the Ark – if she had been told earlier on, rather than having it been kept a secret from her, Raven was sure she could have saved everyone.

So, of course, she linked everything together immediately, and sat up, propping herself up on her elbows.

“So, it’s not just me,” she said, filled with relief. Finn furrowed his brow.

“You’ve been feeling it already?” he asked. She nodded.

“I’m feeling _something_ ,” she replied. “What about you? What’s going on with your side effects?” Finn sat back now, sighing and shaking his head.

“They all cause issues,” he said at last. “None of them actually do us any good.” Raven sat up properly now, frowning at him. “Miller can levitate – fly, you know? I saw him do it; saw him just fly up into a tree. I heard Monroe and Harper talking about how he talks in his sleep about flying away – about being scared of leaving the ground.”

“That sucks,” Raven said quietly. Finn nodded, continuing.

“And I’ve seen Clarke walk through walls – she can just phase right through it. She sleeps under the cots in the Dropship, because she keeps falling through the beds.”

“Can she fall through the ground, to like, underground caverns?” Raven asked. Finn shrugged.

“Probably – I bet she’s shit scared about that, too. Octavia’s voice keeps hurting people, too. Like, every time she speaks loudly it _hurts_ people’s ears.”

“What about you?” Raven asked.

Finn sighed, looking up at the nylon ceiling. “I just got enhanced sense of smell.” Raven would have laughed, usually, but she could feel his heart pounding, his hatred of his power so strong and so loud. “I can smell _everything_ , Rae. I can smell the rabbits sitting a mile away from camp – I can smell that one of them just took a shit. I can smell sex, and blood, and people throwing up or making out. I can smell _everything_. I can smell when people lie to me.”

Raven was silent as she reached forward, running her fingers carefully through his hair. She pressed her lips up to his soundly, before pulling back and studying his expression.

“We’re going to figure this out,” she told him, and felt his doubt.

“You lied about Abby saying that she loves Clarke,” he replied. Raven paused, but nodded.

“She didn’t tell us to tell Clarke, no,” she said. “But Abby does love Clarke – I thought it would help.”

She found it so ironic, so painful, that as the woman who understood machines better than anything else, she had been plagued with feeling how everyone else felt. She was in over her head, drowning under their emotions, and Raven didn’t understand how to fix this, this time.

-

“Have you seen Atom?” Octavia asked the next morning. People’s names had been thrown at Raven, one after the other, but Octavia’s stuck out for her – not just because the girl was one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen, but because Bellamy had introduced her as his younger sister. _This_ was the girl from under the floorboards; that illegal child she’d heard the rumours about.

“Who’s Atom?” Raven asked, frowning. Had she met an Atom? Octavia paused, huffing.

“Shit, he wasn’t here last night either then,” she complained. “You would have met him.” Octavia looked around, and Raven did, too, even though she had no idea who she was looking for. She _felt_ Octavia’s worry, though. She felt how Octavia felt and she desperately wanted to find this boy. Raven had been informed how dangerous the ground was, and she didn’t know how well anyone would do out there on their own.

Bellamy was just heading past, and Octavia called him over.

“Quickly, O,” he said, jogging up to them. “I’m meeting the Grounders at the gate in five minutes.” Raven had heard briefly about them, too. Apparently they were going to work together to destroy the Mountain Men, and get that Jasper kid back. Apparently they were also going to trade with them, and help the delinquents survive on the ground.

“Have you seen Atom?” Octavia asked him, frowning. Bellamy hesitated before shaking his head.

“No, actually,” he replied. “Usually I see him in the mornings on patrol – he wasn’t there. When did you last see him?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Octavia sighed. “After Raven and Bryan arrived.” Bellamy glanced about, before jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Go check with Miller,” he said, and Raven spotted him standing by the Dropship. “He was on guard duty last night, he might know.” Octavia nodded.

“You think he’s okay?” she asked, and Raven spotted some childlike innocence; a girl who had only ever known her brother, never learned to grow up. Raven felt her worry, and felt Bellamy’s fondness – he also felt something akin to guilt. She didn’t understand that part.

He pulled Octavia in for a hug, which seemed to surprise her, and he stroked her hair softly in the embrace.

“I think he’s fine,” Bellamy insisted. “We’ll find him.” Octavia nodded, smiling a little as they pulled away.

“We’ll find him,” she agreed, somehow renewed with vigour. She turned, saying her thanks, and bounding off in Miller’s direction.

It was odd; the sudden change in feelings. Raven knew when it happened; she could feel it happen, feel Octavia switching and agreeing, and some of the worry lifting from her shoulders. It could be because he’s her brother, but it could also be…

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Bellamy glanced over, surprised to see her expression.

“What?” he asked.

“What’s your side effect?” she asked in return, crossing her arms across her chest. Bellamy stared at her in silence for a beat, and she felt the _panic_.

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “It’s one of those useless ones, I can read the minds of small woodland animals.” Raven raised a pointed eyebrow, sending him a dry look.

“You’re a bad liar,” she pointed out.

“How dare you,” he replied evenly. “I’m a fantastic liar. What’s your side effect, huh?”

“I can feel everything,” she said, calmly, even though it felt like dropping something as monumental as the world. “I can feel what everyone’s feeling.”

“You figured that out fast.”

“I’m intelligent,” Raven shrugged. “Of course I figured out that I was feeling things that weren’t my own.” Bellamy turned, nodding to the gate, and Raven walked with him. “So what’s yours?”

“I told you. Talking to squirrels.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” she replied. “I _felt_ a change in Octavia, you know? I felt her feeling differently.” He sent a cautious look towards her, before stopping abruptly, almost glaring down at him. She was impressed; whilst there was fear in his chest, he was masking it well, forcing it down. “You can change people’s mind – you can control their thoughts,” she said lowly, a guess.

Bellamy huffed. “Something like that.” She raised an eyebrow again. “If I touch them, I can make them believe anything I say.”

“Octavia was surprised you hugged her.” Bellamy frowned, nodding. “You stopped touching people.” Bellamy glanced about, taking her by the elbow and dragging her to a quiet corner, at an empty part of the wall. He didn’t speak until he was no longer touching her skin.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “I only use it when I feel like I have to-“

“Like just then?”

“I use it when people need some _hope_ , Reyes,” he ground out. “Sure, I used it the other day to persuade someone to do their goddamn job – but people are gonna die down here. If me telling them that we might just survive makes them _not_ want to give up? I’m going to do it.”

She eyed him carefully for a second, involuntarily feeling his determination and anger. After a beat, Raven nodded.

“Can you touch people and _not_ make them believe what you say?” she asked. Bellamy shrugged.

“It hasn’t happened yet.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re not touching people,” she replied. “You should practice.”

“I don’t want to fuck about with people’s emotions.”

“Fuck about with mine, then,” she decided with a nod. “Later, when the Grounders are gone – we can practice. I’ll try and block out other people’s emotions, and you can touch me and try to not force your opinion on my mind.”

Bellamy stared openly for a moment, before Clarke called his name out. He glanced around, over to where the blonde girl was looking for him by the gate. Then he turned back, nodding.

“Okay,” he said. “Later. We’ll practice.” Raven smiled as he jogged over to Clarke, and she felt the hope rising in his chest.

-

“You cheated on me,” Raven said at last, only having been on Earth for a day, but _telling_ that Finn had done it. She could feel the guilt in his chest any time he was around Clarke, could feel him forcing out lies. She figured that she would feel his reaction, get a definite answer to whether he had or not – and she was right.

The moment she said it, leaning against the metal of the Dropship as he sorted berries into various crates, she felt Finn’s fear spike. There was guilt, worry, anger, all in one, and she looked at him resolutely. He had cheated on her.

“Raven,” he started, trying to find his words.

“With Clarke,” Raven added. Finn hesitated, slowly turning to look at her.

“Why would you- how, uh-“

“I can feel it,” she replied. “I can feel that you regret it. Every time you stand next to her, there’s something in you that screams for her, but then immediately feels remorse.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking away.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I kissed her. I thought you were going to die up in the Ark, I thought I was alone, and I like her.”

“Present tense,” Raven noted. “You _like_ her. Still happening.” He shrugged.

“I _love_ you, though.”

“Not the way I want to be loved,” she replied evenly. “Not the way I deserve to be loved.” Finn sighed, before locking his jaw and nodding.

“I’ll do better,” he promised. She felt that he meant it, but also that he doubted the words as they came out of his mouth.

“How long were you on the ground before you kissed her?” she asked. Even though the camp was bustling about, it felt silent; quiet like this was the only thing to happen right now. She could hear the heart beats of the people around her, feel what they were feeling, but she only focused on Finn, and the trembling in his body.

“A week,” he said.

“You’re lying,” she replied. He frowned at her. “You’re not the only one who can sense it.” They forced the truth, together. It was impossible to lie to one another without the other feeling it, but she hated that, too. She hated that he was only going to tell the truth because he knew she would know otherwise – not just because he wanted to be honest.

“About two days,” he sighed. The truth, and Raven hated it.

She pushed herself away from the Dropship, shaking her head.

“It’s over, Finn,” she said. “I’m going to go and ask Clarke if I can stay in the Dropship with her.”


	8. OCTAVIA BLAKE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, if you've forgotten what previously happened: the kids are on Earth, many of them have powers. Murphy's been exiled, Raven brought Bryan to the ground, Bellamy and Clarke are slowly getting better at being leaders, and Octavia couldn't find Atom.

**OCTAVIA BLAKE**

 

It’s only a day after Octavia realised that Atom was missing, that he became found again.

Octavia didn’t love Atom, but he was her first taste of freedom; her first interest in anything other than feeling fresh air on her face. He smiled at her in a way she didn’t realise people _could_ smile at her, and kissed her soundly, like she was all he could want in that moment.

They had only been together for two weeks, but it was the best two weeks of Octavia’s life.

Her leg was shaking, where she sat at the unlit campfire. The sun was a few hours from setting and she had left the smoking hut for the day. Around her, people paid her no attention. They’d gotten over the novelty of her being the child from under the floorboards, but Octavia knew there was no novelty about it.

Across the grounds, Bellamy was figuring out solutions to problems she knew nothing about; trying to find ways to preserve meat better, and use the supplies the grounders had shared. Clarke was nearby – because she was always near to Bellamy. They had been reluctant leaders, but Octavia had a feeling there was something more there – that they might actually be friends.

And Atom was missing.

He didn’t have a power, Octavia knew. Some people just didn’t; it was just in their DNA not to get any visible side effects from the radiation. He’d said he was a little jealous, sure, because some people could do really cool things – like Harper and her telekinesis – but also some people had some really mundane powers, and well, what was the point in that?

Octavia, on the other hand, had a power that she couldn’t find a use for.

She could create supersonic sounds, it seemed. When she tried to talk loudly, people would wince, and fall back. Octavia was hurting them just by speaking and she wondered how she could get saddled with something like that; with a power so annoying. How was she ever supposed to yell again? Be happy again? Get excited and loud and joyous again?

She had spent her whole life being told to keep quiet, to avoid being found, and now she was out in the open she couldn’t even be loud?

She watched Bellamy head away from where he was standing, and into the Dropship, and then Miller climb up onto the wall, taking over on the guard duty. In the clearing, Monroe was on break and trying to teach Sterling how to cartwheel. His shoulder was still healing up from the week before, when he was shot by a Mountain Man – so Monroe was teaching him to do them one-handed.

Bryan, the new guy, had become immediately useful as one of the only people from Farm Station who _actually knew_ how to farm. He knew about the berries and plants, and had also suggested attempting to catch live animals, instead of killing them, so they could be bred and used that way. He, as Octavia watched, was laughing with a kid – no more than thirteen, surely – as they dug up the ground in a square, to create a gardening patch.

Raven, the woman who’d gotten them to Earth, was nowhere in sight, and Octavia frowned, trying to spot her. She was probably working on a radio, or making a bomb. Those seemed like the type of things she’d do.

“Octavia!” Clarke called. She looked up, finding Clarke at the gate, and the dark-skinned grounder – Indra – staring at her. Octavia stood up, heading over, and shoving her hands in her jacket pocket.

“What?” she asked when she arrived.

“We think we may have found your Atom,” Indra replied evenly, and Octavia’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Indra nodded in response, and Octavia grinned, looking to Clarke and then turning back to the grounder woman. “Is he here?” Whilst Indra’s expression remained the same, she shook her head, seemingly sorry.

“There’s a destroyed village, a few miles from here,” Indra said. “We found a boy in Skaikru clothing there. His body is being guarded by my men.” Octavia faltered, swallowing.

“ _His body_?” she questioned. “As in… his _dead_ body?” At Indra’s slight nod, the air was knocked out of Octavia’s lungs. She’d felt this before, felt it more strongly and in a way that numbed her limbs. She’d felt it when her mother was floated, when her brother was demoted to a janitor, and she was sent to the Sky Box.

And now Atom. The next person she dared to care about.

“You don’t have to go,” Clarke said softly, placing her hand gently on Octavia’s arm. Octavia shrugged her off.

“Like hell I’m not going,” she replied bitterly. “I’ll get Bell. He’s coming with.”

They didn’t reply and Octavia stalked through the camp, pushing people aside who got in her way and not stopping to apologise. She pushed away the curtain at the Dropship door, where she saw Bellamy go, and frowned when he wasn’t in the med bay. Octavia climbed the ladder up to the first floor, and opened the hatch as she went, climbing through.

She found him sitting cross-legged opposite Raven, holding each other’s hands as they spoke. She didn’t catch their words and they faltered with them as she arrived.

“Bell,” she said. “We’re going.”

“Where?” he asked, retracting his hand from Raven’s.

“Atom’s dead. We’re going to get his body.” Her words were even and calm, but her body felt like a tsunami; waves crashing on themselves over and over, a storm in her veins and thunder in her head.

Bellamy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure, before nodding and standing. He looked to Raven, watching them both carefully.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he told her, and she nodded.

“Sure,” she replied. “Come get me whenever. I’ll keep working on the bullets.”

Bellamy followed Octavia back down to the ground floor of the Dropship, and out into the fresh air again. But there was no difference to Octavia anymore; it was all stagnant.

“You don’t have to go,” Bellamy said quietly, by her side.

“Of course I do,” Octavia replied. “I have to see.” Bellamy nodded, reaching out and slipping his hand into hers and squeezing gently. She looked up at him in surprise and he looked away. He was actually holding her hand? After two weeks of no physical contact?

She didn’t understand that, but she pushed it aside, not even noticing how he didn’t speak again until she let go, reaching the ruins of a village, all crumbled to the ground and broken.

It was empty and destroyed; each building a million pieces out in an open stretch of land; fragmented and cracked all around her. Octavia stepped slowly through the rubble, everything burnt and blackened on all sides. There was a loud crack as she placed her foot down, and Octavia felt bile rise into her throat as she saw the skull she stepped on.

“What happened here?” she asked, her voice ragged and hoarse.

“It was a war, a few years ago,” Indra replied from behind her. Everyone was behind her, and all Octavia could see was ruin. “Our own people fought against one another, and this village was burned down in the middle of the night.”

“Any survivors?” Bellamy asked.

“A few. Not many. But after this the Commander decided that wars against ourselves were as bad as any crime. She created the coalition between the clans, so we live in peace.”

“Besides the Mountain,” Bellamy sighed.

“Yes. Besides them.”

Octavia kept going through the rubble, being careful of where she stepped, and trying to push each sight out of her memory the moment she looked away. It was all so grey, so dull – an overcast sky and a destroyed village.

“Where is he?” Octavia asked after another minute.

“Just over that ridge,” Indra replied, and Octavia glanced over to find the older woman pointing ahead. Octavia continued on, dread rising in her body. She knew was she was about to see; what she was about to feel – but she wanted to put it off, to forget and move away. She couldn’t though. Octavia couldn’t ignore that her boyfriend was dead. She couldn’t ignore that his body was here.

So she kept pushing forward and stood at the top of the ridge, finding the grounders guarding the body, only a few metres away. Octavia looked between them, before staring at the floor.

As Indra and Bellamy joined her, Octavia’s lips began to tremble. She pushed past the men guarding the body, and fell to her knees next to the dismembered limbs, all bloody and broken; clothes in scraps around him, and his head, half ripped away.

Before she knew it she was crying, and then she was screaming her lungs out. Roaring at the top of her voice, letting all of her pain and sorrow out in a shriek that felt like it would never end.

Her eyes were clamped shut, her fists balled, and her boyfriend dead in front of her. She didn’t see the birds fall from the sky, where they flew overhead, blood dripping from their eyes. She didn’t see the grounders and her brother slam their hands over their ears, falling to the ground and unable to take the pain of her voice. She was piercing the sky and almost shattering the eardrums of the people around her; her voice was a fucking weapon and she used it as one.

When the first scream stopped, she only took a second before it started up again; involuntary and broken. Behind her, Bellamy clawed his way over; one hand on his ear and the other grappling at the ground and the rubble to make his way to her. When he reached her, she barely even felt his hand on her arm, but she heard his voice.

“Octavia!” he cried. “Stop!”

The scream only continued for a second longer, before she stopped it, dissolving into tears. Bellamy breathed heavily beside her, coming up to sit and holding her close to him as she sobbed into his shoulder. The blood that had slowly begun to trickle from his ears was sticky against her hair, but neither of them cared in that moment.

Octavia cried into her brother’s embrace, and Bellamy whispered that it would all be okay, over and over, until the sky dimmed and the tears dried.

-

By the end of the next day, two more people had disappeared.

“What are we going to do?” Raven asked, arms crossed. Octavia didn’t look up from where she was curled into Bellamy’s side. He’d been pretty quiet since she’d been there, but he spoke now, his voice a little strained. She didn’t put too much thought into it.

“I don’t know – we know the Mountain took them, so we need to get them back.”

“We can’t get close with that acid fog,” Clarke said from the other side of the room as she sorted through supplies. The room was silent for a moment before Bellamy spoke again.

“Harper could probably try.” Octavia nodded into his arm – she probably could. Harper could try and control the mist.

“Do you think it’s in her wheelhouse?” Raven questioned, adjusting the small lamp and looking back to her project in front of her – miniature bombs made of natural resources. Apparently Jasper was good at chemistry – he would’ve done well here.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Bellamy replied.

“Bell’s right,” Clarke said. “We’ve got these powers – we could easily create a plan to take down the Mountain, using them.”

“Do you think the whole walking-through-walls thing would help?” Raven poured gunpowder into a jar before shaking it lightly and sealing it.

“I’m sure it can somehow,” Clarke replied. “And Monty will definitely help out – Jasper’s in there – he’s got that-“ she clicked her fingers absently, trying to remember.

“Water,” Bellamy supplied.

“Yeah, exactly. He’s got that. He could do something.”

“So, what, we go in on our own? We’ll get crushed, even if we do have powers,” Raven continued. Octavia wondered what her power was – she hadn’t heard anything about it, or seen her do anything yet.

Clarke huffed, falling back on her hunches.

“Will you help us out, O?” Bellamy whispered, looking down at his sister. Octavia shifted a little, before nodding. Of course she was. She was going to burn that place to the ground for even _touching_ Atom.

“I’m going to turn their brains into mush,” Octavia replied, quiet but threatening. Bellamy nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Raven,” he said. “We should also have some technology to shield us from Octavia’s screaming, so it doesn’t hurt us.” Raven nodded, pointing at him.

“Good idea. I’ll get to work on that.”

“Still, it won’t be enough,” Clarke sighed.

“We could get the grounders,” Octavia suggested, looking up at Bellamy. “We could get them to help out? That Indra woman said that they attack their people too, right? That they drain them of their blood?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said slowly. “We could ask for their help.”

“Don’t you think they would have attacked by now if they were going to?” Clarke asked, flopping onto her back and staring at the metal ceiling.

“No,” Octavia replied, a little louder so Clarke could hear. “They can’t get past the fog.”

“But if Harper could…” Raven trailed off, smiling.

“I’ll send a message,” Clarke decided, sitting up again. “We’ll get them to help.”


	9. MONTY GREEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you forgot this fic was a thing, right? I mean, it's been a while. I forgot, too. It's one of the reasons this update took so long. Anyway. Everyone needs some Monty, right?

**MONTY GREEN**

Commander Lexa stood at the war table, staring at the Sky People. From what Monty had heard between the nervous fidgeting and darting his gaze about as if Jasper would just appear from around a corner, was that there was no time for formalities. Usually, there would be treaty plans, alliance meetings, and a celebratory dinner – but there was no time.

“We do not know how long your people will be of use to them,” the Commander said. “It could be a few days, like your Atom-“ she looked to Octavia, standing stoic and hard, a concrete glare on her face, “-or it could be much longer, like your Jasper.” This time, the Commander looked Monty dead in the eye, and he forced himself not to look away.

“So,” she continued. “We must act now. And these… _powers_ , you’ve described, I believe can be used to raze the mountain, as if it never stood.” There was silence for a moment, as the grounders nodded. Monty’s friends were still, cross-armed, watching carefully. “You know your powers better than I,” she added, gesturing to Bellamy and Clarke, who stepped forward.

“You’ve never been able to reach Mount Weather because of the acid fog,” Clarke started, looking at the map that was rolled out across the table. Monty stared at it; at the drawn ridges where Jasper hopefully was. “But if one of us can disable it, or at least keep it away from us then we may stand a chance at reaching the mountain.”

“And what sort of power would this be?” the Commander questioned. “Who amongst you can control the mist?”

It had been a restless few days since Atom’s body was found, and the camp had been a nightmare. Every side effect was listed, and tested rigorously as the delinquents tried to figure out a battle strategy. Much of that time had been spent with Monroe sitting by Monty’s side at the lake, cheering him on as he created mist and fog roll across the surface of the water, and Harper attempt to control it. It was still a work in progress, but there was a chance.

“Monty and Harper,” Bellamy replied. “Fog is water-based, and the acid fog contains an element of something more – which Harper has said she can control with yesterday’s _drill_.” Bellamy said that word with disdain.

The ‘drill’ was frightening, Monty remembered. It was Harper’s idea, and the two of them traipsed through the wood without telling anyone that they were leaving, and moved in close enough to the mountain. They could see the door; the satellite, and they stood close by to a cave that would protect them from the poison that was sure to come. Monty had shook by her side, by Harper standing tall and firm and _daring_ the Mountain to spew forth the fog.

It did and they ran so fast Monty felt his heart hammering against his rib cage. Once safely inside the cave, the two of them had worked together, taking what they knew from the testing by the lake, and together successfully controlling the acid fog; Monty focusing on the water particles, and Harper on the metallic liquid that made it so venomous.

Monty didn’t dare look over to Bellamy, who was still fretting over the fact that they went and taunted the mountain; that they specifically put themselves in danger just to try out a theory. Monty didn’t want to know what expression he’d see.

“That drill killed three men,” Indra pointed out, her voice low and dangerous. Monty swallowed, eyes burning holes in the table.

“That drill is proof that we can reach the mountain,” Clarke retorted. “We apologise for the deaths, that wasn’t meant to happen. But now we can reach Mount Weather and get close enough to turn the acid fog _off_.”

“Why must we turn it off if we can control it?” the Commander asked.

“If it’s off we won’t have to worry about it again,” Clarke replied.

“Also,” Bellamy added. “We’ve only been on the ground for two weeks. Some powers are taking longer to reach the capacity that others can – Monty and Harper can’t control _all_ the fog, just some of it. We use them to sneak in a small team, who shuts off the fog. Then the army can approach.”

There was silence as the Commander nodded.

“Fine. Indra, call upon the armies of the twelve clans – I want them all present when we bring down our nemesis.”

“Heda,” Indra replied. “They will not be able to arrive immediately.”

“I want them here within three days,” the Commander ordered. “That is when we will attack.”

“Three _days_?” Octavia interrupted, a loud outburst from the back of the room where she’d promised to stay silent. Everyone winced, and Monty shook his head, trying to force the pain to subside. “Sorry,” she added, quieter. “Three days is too long – they have Jasper, still. More and more of us are disappearing! We can’t let them kill more of us!”

“Tell me,” the Commander replied, staring icily towards Octavia, who shuffled a little where she stood. “The people who have been taken – do they have powers like you?” Octavia hesitated.

“Not _like_ mine,” she mumbled. “But yeah – other than Atom, they do.” The Commander nodded.

“We then have reason to believe that they are only killing those that are not useful for whatever they are planning – they want the ones with the powers. Your Atom was someone they didn’t want, a _mistake_ on their part. If they were disposing of the bodies of your friends, we would have found more. Therefore, the way to stop your friends from being killed is to make sure no one powerless leaves the safety of your walls, which they have yet to breach.”

Monty turned to Octavia, watching her stare resolutely at the floor. He glanced at Monroe, whose knuckles were turning white where they gripped at Harper’s hand. She had no side effect – she was at risk now. They were keeping the powered ones _alive_. At least, that was the hope.

Octavia grumbled something under her breath, before pushing out of the tent. Bellamy shifted, to go after her, but Clarke placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head.

“We’re needed here,” she said quietly, and Bellamy’s jaw locked as he nodded. They were needed there, in the war room, but Monty was not. He turned and followed Octavia out, looking to where she was huffing, her fists balled and tight, and her face schooled into a glare.

“Her plan is to keep us _captive_ ,” Octavia seethed, not even looking at him. Monty sighed, hugging his arms close to his body.

“Her plan is to keep the rest of us safe,” he replied. She shook her head, turning to him.

“I know they can’t bring Atom back – but keeping a quarter of us under lock and key, not even allowed to help! We’re never going to get them back!”

“Octavia,” Monty said quietly, so tired in his bones. There was just nothing left for this world to take – it had taken his best friend, his brother, his friends, and his sense of normality. There was nothing left, and Monty felt hollow as he looked at this girl, full with only rage. “We’re going to get them back. And we’re going to kill the people who hurt Atom.”

Octavia’s head turned sharply towards him. Monty had always been good at reading people – it was a gift he’d never thought about too hard, but had always been there. It was almost a superpower in its own right – something so intrinsic to his being that Monty almost paused to wonder why developing the ability to control water was so fascinating, when he’d always been able to know people like the back of his hand.

Octavia’s jaw locked and Monty smiled sadly. Getting their friends back wasn’t high on Octavia’s list – getting vengeance for Atom’s death was.

“I’m going to kill them all,” she promised, but Monty shook his head.

“That’s not going to help you feel better,” Monty replied. “Killing isn’t going to solve your issues.”

“They’re going to die,” Octavia said, all conviction. Monty nodded.

“They will. But killing them won’t bring back Atom and it won’t stop you from feeling empty.” It was almost silent, outside. There were grounders meandering around the makeshift town, who sent the pair curious glances every now and again – but there was nothing much else.

“I can kill them,” she muttered weakly, her jaw losing its tightness and her hands relaxing by her sides.

“You can,” Monty agreed. “But you shouldn’t. The weight of their deaths will be too heavy to hold.” Octavia studied him for a brief moment before she nodded, eyes welling with tears and lip trembling. She ducked forward, pulling him into a fierce hug so fast that Monty almost lost his balance. He held her back tightly, her shaking reverberating throughout his body.

After a moment, her legs gave out and the two fell to their knees, where they clutched at each other like their lives depended on it. Her sobs slowly turned into wails – mourning her boyfriend, her innocence, the end of feeling safe in this new world. She cried for not being able to save Atom, for not being able to stop the Mountain on her own, for not being able to kill them.

Monty’s ears started ringing but he held her anyway, sending glares at any of the grounders who winced nearby. No one was to stop her from feeling, not even Octavia Blake herself.

Eventually, her wails calmed and Octavia pressed her face into Monty’s shoulder as they adjusted how they sat on the ground. She leaned onto him, and he held her up like he knew she would do for him, in return.

“I have these fucking powers,” she said at last, not moving. “I have them and I can’t even use them. I couldn’t even save him.”

“You were already powerful,” Monty replied after a beat. “You already had gifts, before you got to Earth.”

“But they weren’t… they weren’t like these ones,” she told him, looking up. “They weren’t special ones.”

“Neither are these,” Monty shrugged. “You are Octavia Blake. You lived for sixteen years under the floorboards, and you came out fighting. You are strong, and powerful, and loved-“ Octavia snorted, and Monty glared a little. “You _are_ ,” he argued. “Your brother loves you more than anyone has ever loved another person – I don’t know why you don’t understand that.” She looked like she was going to reply, but Monty kept going. “None of us needed these powers – none of them made us special or important. We already were. You can’t save Atom – none of us can. He’s gone far beyond our abilities. But you _can_ save the people in that mountain, the ones who are left over.”

“What, by using my _shouting_?” Octavia mocked. Monty shrugged.

“If you need to, yeah. But you can do it using your determination, and passion, and strength – they’re gifts in themselves.” Octavia studied Monty’s expression for a moment longer before the faintest traces of a smile began to surface. She enveloped him in another hug, tight but gentle, as if she was worried she’d break him but also wanted to hold him as close as possible.

Behind him, Monty could hear Clarke’s voice, low and amused. “He’s giving you and your speeches a run for your money.” Monty smiled into Octavia’s hair as Bellamy laughed.

-

Under the cover of nightfall, three days later, the armies convened. Bellamy had pressed the Ark’s guard uniform – the one that he had worn of the trip down – into Monty’s hands, with a sure nod and a hint of a smile. Monty didn’t question how Bellamy had managed to get the outfit to fit him so well, considering the difference in their heights – he just pulled it on, thankful for the protection, and joined Harper, with Trikru armour, at the Commander’s war tent.

There, they stood, hand in hand, silently. They took in the moment; the crisp air of the night, the murmurs of other warriors, the way Bellamy and Clarke stood firmly side by side, as if nothing could break them apart. Monty wondered when they’d become so close – he wondered how he’d missed it happening.

People gathered, nerves jittering around their bones, and whispers floating from their mouths.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Monroe muttered to herself on the other side of Harper. The people without powers were only leaving for the battle – Monroe hadn’t been out of the camp in three days, and Monty had noticed her going a little stir crazy. “We’re gonna it through this.” She repeated the sentiment a few times, maybe until it felt like she wasn’t lying. Monty glanced over, finding Monroe shaking a little as she gripped at her girlfriend’s hand, finding her chewing on her lower lip and blinking away tears as if this was all really hitting her now. Maybe seeing her is what made the nerves stop tumbling in Monty’s stomach; gave him hope and strength and power. Monty had been fighting for Jasper – always Jasper, his best friend and brother, alone in that mountain – it hadn’t occurred to him to fight for the people here.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he said, repeating her lines back to her. His voice was sure as he nodded. “We’re gonna make it through this.” Monroe smiled gratefully in his direction, before looking to their leaders, standing tall and strong in front of the tent.

The Commander spoke first; hushing the armies of the clans that she’d assembled, and Monty listened to her absently – catching sentences of plans to destroy the mountain, and others to save their captured brothers and sisters. He felt the tension in the air; felt the grounders nodding and agreeing: they were to die for this woman, all war paint and complex braids. They were to live for her, fight for her and die for her.

When she finished, and her armies cheered, Monty looked to Bellamy and Clarke. They glanced at each other and a silent conversation must have passed between them because Bellamy stepped forward, looking on at his own people. His stared at them for a moment, felt the way Monroe was shaking and Miller was waiting, Bryan gnawing on the inside of his mouth, and nodded.

“You came to Earth as criminals,” he said, his voice travelling through the crowd. “Because you were expendable. Because the Ark thought they could get away with throwing you onto a new planet, or because you knew that a life on _Earth_ was better than what they had up there.” In Monty’s peripheral, Raven was standing tall and strong, her heading lifting higher by the second as if inspired by the strength and courage that Bellamy’s words carried.  “Now we’re here, on Earth, with people who want to kill us, or take our powers for their own. We’re here with some of our own in a mountain, and others under the ground – we’re here, and this is our home now. We have to _fight_ for it to be our home now, because there’s nowhere else.

“There is no other planet for us to drop onto,” he continued. “Earth is the last resort, the final play, and we made it. Now, we must fight for it, fight for _us_. We are going to march up to that mountain and we are going to bring our friends _home_.”

A cheer echoed through the delinquents, Monty’s voice maybe louder than all. They thrust their fists into the air as Bellamy smiled, ducked his head, and copied their action. “May we meet again!” he yelled, looking out across his people.

“May we meet again!” They repeated, loud and ready for the battle ahead.

They were nodded forward, Monty and Harper taking up the lead. They marched together in sync, Monroe standing nearby and the small team to head to the mountain on their tail. Monty looked around, seeing the other delinquents and people who were going to enter the mountain, pressing small devices into their ears. He did the same, pushing the tech Raven had cooked up into his ear, as protection from Octavia’s voice.

As they reached the area the fog seemed to reach, Harper turned, pressing her lips solidly to Monroe’s and nodding.

“I love you,” Harper said quietly, meeting Monroe’s eye. Monroe nodded, her hand gripping at Harper’s.

“I love you, too. I’ll see you at the end of the battle. I’ll bring you some flowers.”

“For my excellent work?” Monroe gave Harper an odd look.

“No, I just thought you were supposed to take flowers to a funeral.” Harper’s shocked laughed echoed, and Monroe grinned in return. Monty looked away, knowing their moment wasn’t for him to intrude on – but he couldn’t help but hear their words. “You’re going to win this,” Monroe said firmly. “Then we’re going to make out for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Harper replied. “Kick some ass for me in that army, okay?”

“Always.” A moment later, Harper was by Monty’s side, and they nodded once towards the other before slowly wading their way into the danger zone. Behind them was both Clarke and Octavia; the four of them making the group for this mission. Clarke could walk through walls as if they were nothing, and that was what they needed to get inside. Octavia’s voice was going to bring down the guards, and she was going to make sure there was only one result: a victory.

The two girls stuck close behind he and Harper as they went, all on alert to when the fog would appear, and Harper glanced back at Clarke.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “You’ve got this, and everyone else is going to be safe.”

“I know they will,” Clarke replied. “Bellamy’s looking out for them.” There was a brief moment of silence, and Monty nodded.

“There’s nothing to worry about, then. Just focus on turning off the acid fog.”

They kept going for a minute longer before the fog rolled down the hill, cascading towards them in a large yellow plume of deadly poison. As it approached, Monty reached out his hand, searching for the water in it, like he had done in the caves a few days before. He felt Harper doing the same, and together they manoeuvred the fog around them; a small air bubble in the midst of the poison. The group pressed together, the fumes smelling of metal, as they continued to move steadily towards the mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, THANKS for reading, I super appreciate it. I'm posting this before it's entirely finished because I thrive off of validation, and it's what motivates me to write - which means, kudos and comments are literally my power source and lifeblood! So pretty please drop me a message (it doesn't have to be long!) to tell me your feelings about this!
> 
> Also because of the slightly random update schedule, you can subscribe to the fic (there's a button at the top of the page) and you can get emailed when it updates!
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> Thanks so much!


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